Rule 61
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: Bruce came home one day to find that both Dick and Alfred had been kidnapped and the only clue he had were the four words that had been left in the Batcave: "Help me. Rule 61."
1. Chapter 1

Batman had a long list of rules. To him, they were just mental rules that he knew by heart. To Robin though, those rules were like the bible. He had them written down in a little green book, numbered in order that only reached to sixty. He kept it on hand wherever he went, reading it when he felt out of place and adding a new line every time Batman brought up a new rule that he hadn't heard before, even taking down his mentor's facial expression to see how serious the rule was.

Batman had glanced through the book once or twice, curious to see what stuff had escaped his lips. He knew that number one on the list was something along the lines of, "Never go anywhere without your utility belt." Number sixteen was, "They call it a secret identity for a reason." Number forty three was, "Keep your playtime and your lifetime as two separate times. Never let the clock hands cross." The others mostly referred to battle strategy and teamwork and stuff like that. He wasn't all too familiar on them.

There was one final rule that he knew by heart, one that he had wish he had known long ago. It was a number sixty, added only after last month when Dick hadn't come home from school. Number sixty, scribbled into the book with blue ink in a spidery scrawl, was, "If you know you're going to be gone, tell someone. If there's no one to tell, leave clues." This was also the only rule that Dick hadn't followed.

XxXxX

When Bruce had come home from work on that dark Tuesday night, he already could tell something was wrong before he even touched the doorknob. He stopped by the door, setting his briefcase down. He reached into his suit, pulling out his utility belt and hooking it around his shoulders, opening the door suspiciously, relocating the brief case to the inside of the house before he closed the door with his foot, looking around silently.

"Alfred…" he called loudly, suspiciously glancing at the dark kitchen.

The old man didn't reply. There wasn't a bump, a scrape, a muffle or a tap. The only sound he heard was his rapid heartbeat in his chest and his soft breathing. He slipped a hand into his utility belt, grabbing a handful of batbombs and silently slipping into the kitchen. His eyes darted about, already adjusted. The kitchen was empty, same with the dining room, the cabinet and the study. Suspiciously, he started up the stairs, on full alert.

"Dick!" he called loudly, his voice full of worry.

When he got no answer, he began to freak out. His cautious steps gained speed and he bolted down the hall, kicking down his ward's door. The room was a mess. Papers were strewn everywhere, the bed was unmade with the covers on the floor, there were huge cuts in the walls with the wallpaper hanging down, the dresser drawers were open and their contents were all over the floors, the posters were ripped off the walls, picture frames were cracks, the closet door was broken, half of the clothes missing, the window was broken, the shades were snapped down the middle and burnt scorches covered the room.

Bruce's heart leapt up into his throat and he forgot how to breathe. His mental walls fell apart and his hands fell to his side in horror. He staggered into the room, his eyes wide with horror. Someone had been in his baby's room. Someone had torn through his baby's room, looking for something. Someone had his baby.

"Dick!" Bruce screamed desperately, tearing out of the room and bursting his head into every room.

His little boy wasn't upstairs and neither was Alfred. Where was his family? With one final blast of hope, he practically jumped off the staircase, flying to the study and into the bookshelf, heading down to the Batcave. When he got down there, his jaw dropped. With it, his heart abandoned him, flying out of his throat.

His Batcave wasn't destroyed, but it had been defiled by red spray paint. It was the same four words painted every where; over the computer screens, over the ground, over the chairs, over the glass display cases and even the ceiling. It took Bruce a minute to realize what it said, but when he figured it out, he could feel his escaped heart get run over by an eighteen-wheeler.

_Help me. Rule 61. Help me. Rule 61. Help me. Rule 61. Help me. Rule 61. _

He quickly recognized the handwriting as Dick's. He didn't care though. He also didn't care what Rule 61 was. Instead, he broke his own unspoken rule. He called for help.

…

**-F.J. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Someone save me from the monster in the mirror. She keeps looking at me with her stupid face… she won't go away… I miss the little girl who used to smile nervously at me, waving awkwardly. This monster I see… I hate her face. I hate her size. I hate her. She just keeps glaring at me from the reflection, smirking when I squirm at the sight of her… Why won't she go away?**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

Wally calmly stood in his uncle's kitchen, the huge tub of vanilla ice-cream on the counter in front of him. He had a huge red striped bowl in his left hand and a gray ice-cream scooper in his right. School was out that day because it was a Teacher's Work Day, so he hadn't bothered with clothes. Instead, he just stood there in his South Park boxers with a white wifebeater shirt on.

From across the counter, he could see and hear Channel Nine News which he always had on when he was home in the morning. Right now, they were talking about some shooting in Star City. He didn't really care for it though. Hungrily licking his lips, he dug the ice-cream scooper into the vanilla ice-cream, scooping five big scoops of ice-cream into his bowl, his emerald eyes sparkling in wonder. Once his bowl was stuffed with ice-cream, he put the now half empty tub back into the fridge. He sucked on the scooper for a moment, cherishing the metallic sweet taste for a moment before he tossed it into the warm soapy water in the sink.

Then, he grabbed his bowl of ice-cream off the counter and grabbed a small tea-stirring spoon from the drawer, dashing into the living room and plopping down onto the black leather loveseat. He sprawled out, one foot on either side of the feet-rest on the chair, leaning back so his red hair brushed the wall. He began feasting on his ice-cream, his emerald eyes darting back to the TV.

His Aunt Iris was on the screen, reporting on the shooting still. Her fine red hair was pulled back into its usual ponytail, the same bothersome strand of hair curving across the left side of her face. Her dark green eyes glinted with boredom, but she forced the same tedious serious face. She wore her little golden hoop earrings; the ones Wally had gotten her two birthdays ago. He smiled when he noticed, taking a large bite of ice-cream, wincing at the cold. He didn't necessarily mind though. He forced the cold to the roof of his mouth, waiting calmly for the cold to die down.

"In other news, the search for Dick Grayson, Gotham City's Bruce Wayne's multimillionaire ward, has reached day two of the investigation. So far, no progress has been made," Iris said calmly into the screen, standing in front of a huge crowd of police men and bystanders.

Wally choked on the ice-cream, his eyes tripling in size. He quickly set the bowl down and his hands scrambled for the remote. When he grabbed it, he quickly hit rewind, turning the TV up all the way.

"In other news, the search for Dick Grayson…" his aunt repeated again.

Wally's heart caught in his chest, his hand shaking lightly.

"N… no…" he shook his head in disbelief, "He… t-that can't be… n-not my Dick…"

He hit play and waited, desperate to know more. He watched his aunt run up to Bruce Wayne. The man looked like he hadn't slept in days. The bags under his eyes were heavy, his eyes were red tinted and his hair was a mess.

"Excuse me, Mr. Wayne," Iris caught his attention.

He looked up exhaustedly, recognizing her. He couldn't even fake a smile for her.

"Any progress on the search for Dick?" Iris held the microphone out towards him.

Bruce didn't look her way.

"Our butler, Alfred Pennyworth, was taken too… but no," he took a deep, shuddery breath, "I haven't… we have the Justice League and the cops looking for them both…"

He was a mess to say the least. He looked like he wanted to be curled up somewhere warm, sobbing his heart out. Wally's hand shook dangerously, staring in horror up at the screen.

_Dick… he's… he's missing? _

Wally let out a growl, abandoning his ice-cream on the table. There were millions of cartons of ice-cream, but only one Dick. He bolted up the stairs, running as fast as his powers let him. Seconds later, he bolted back down the stairs, wearing his yellow spandex suit. He lowered his red goggles over his eyes and ended up face-planting into the screen door. Going as fast as he had, he ended up flipping over his feet, landing on his ass. He set a hand to his neck, wincing in pain. He cursed angrily under his breath, getting to his feet weakly.

Then, he unlocked the screen door and walked out in a huff, groaning under his breath before he took off running down the road. He didn't know where he was going exactly. All he knew was that his little bird wasn't in the nest anymore and if he didn't save him, he'd get caught by nature freaks that'd clip his wings and bind him to the earth with the rest of the world. He didn't want his Boy Wonderful to lose what made him special. He just let his red yellow boots take him where he needed to go to be the hero he used to dream about.

**Only 2 pages, sorry. I like Wally, and he's Robin's bestie, so I figured I'd get his take on the matter too. And if you're like me, you feel bad for that poor abandoned ice-cream. Don't worry, I'm sure it went to a better place. **

**-F.J. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, I honestly am just winging this. I don't know what Rule 61 is, I don't know who has Robin. I just thought it'd be fun to play with Bats' Rules. So, if you have a bad guy request… and the fan pairing issue. Can I do KF/Rob or are the majority of you bible-humping brats? If you're reading this and remember it after you read the short distance down to the Review button, tell me… or what not. **

**Disclaimer: I claim the idea to Bats' Rules, but everything else isn't mine. **

"It's already Day Three!" Bruce said into the phone, his voice ever so close to breaking.

He stood weakly in the hallway upstairs, leaning his back to the wall, one hand roughly pressed to his own forehead, the other holding the phone in place. Tears threatened and he felt sick. His stomach was knotted and he felt so useless. He could hear the police searching through his little boy's room, defiling the precious objects his little angel had collected over the past four and a half years that seemed fit in his little space of cloud. They were going through his stuff, their disease ridden white gloves bagging everything they thought of evidence, taking away all he had left to remember of the closest thing he would ever have to a son.

Downstairs, he could hear other cops rummaging and sorting through Alfred's room, carelessly carting away the old man's priceless collectibles as if they were trash, claiming them as 'evidence'. They were ruining the man who he'd come to call his father's room! They were messing everything up. He wanted them gone. He just wanted his family back. He heard Barry sigh exhaustedly on the other line.

"You're overreacting Wayne!" the blonde tried to convince him. "I'm sure Robin's just pulling another prank on you or something. Maybe he did leave a note or something, but Alfred cleaned it up on accident? The old man might've just lost his memory and stumbled away. You have nothing to worry about it."

Bruce bit his lip hard for a long moment, taking a shaky breath.

"N-Nothing to worry about?" he mocked in a rough growl. "This is my _son _we're talking about here! Someone came in and they took my boy! To make it worse, they took the closest thing I have to a father! How can I _not _worry?"

The line was silent before Barry cleared his throat.

"I… I know you don't want to hear this but… my boy's gone too. I came home yesterday and Wally was gone. His room was a mess and his costume was gone. Maybe him and Robin took a little trip with Alfred?" Barry offered a faint glimmer of hope in the darkness, but it was too faint to see.

Bruce shook his head, unable to speak.

"B… B-Barry… He has a-a book of rules… He w-would never…" he swallowed hard, blinking off a warm tear as it slid down his cheek. "He'd t-tell me if he w-was… g-going t-t-to leave."

Barry groaned, attempting to muffle it by covering the mouth piece.

"Bruce, please… He's Robin after all. He was trained by the best," he tried to remind his friend. "He can take care of himself, same with Alfred. That old man has one hell of a fight left in him. If he was in danger, he could kick serious ass. Just give it a few more days. I'm sure you'll hear from them soon. Now… I'm going to go try to find Kid before anything bad happens. If you need to talk, ring me up."

Bruce took a deep breath, shaking tremendously as he let it go.

"A-A… I know. Bye," he hit the red button on the phone before he followed the wall down, sinking to the ground.

He sat there silently for a long moment, staring at the wall as one heartbroken tear became two. He hugged his knees to his chest, feeling rather childish in doing so.

_You heard him… Robin can take care of himself. You taught him well and you've seen what he can do, same with Alfred. Kid Flash is probably with him now and they're going to call soon. Robin's going to keep apologizing, his lips moving faster than words until he breaks, knowing how scared I've been. Alfred will probably laugh in the back, trying to imagine what kind of mess I'm in. Then Kid Flash will avoid me for a week or so, hiding behind Robin whenever I pass by so I don't hurt him… _he thought to himself, wiping weakly at his eyes.

Bruce couldn't convince himself though. He was brought up told that Santa came every Christmas, leaving him presents if he was good. He was told that the Easter Bunny snuck in every Easter and left him sugared treats. He was told that little Leprechauns would dance about on St. Patrick's Day, turning everything green when your back was turned, returning back to their pots of gold under the rainbows. He was told that fairy tales were real and that happy endings were actually possible. He grew up dreaming that he'd be some woman's knight in shining arm. Now though, he was just a rusted suit, waiting patiently in a field of posies for some lost soul to stumble upon him, oiling up his joints and teaching him how to walk again.

XxXxX 

Wally's eyes narrowed in anger.

"What do you mean you can't find him?" he growled at Kaldur, red flashing in the bright emerald of his eyes. "Thirteen year old boys don't just self-combust!"

Kaldur's expression softened and he turned his eyes back to the various screens hopelessly.

"Wally, I have tried everything. He is not on the grid. I cannot find him. There is nothing else I can do," Kaldur said reluctantly, attempting to set a hand on the ginger's shoulder, wanting to utter an apology.

Wally shirked away from the outstretched hand as if it was made of acid, glaring at it. Then he took back to angrily glaring at the leader.

"He has to be on the grid! _Search harder!_" the anger in Wally's eyes became a homicidal glint.

He needed his best friend. He couldn't just be Kid Mouth. He needed a Boy Wonder at his side to tease him, taunt him, smile at him when someone had switched his lights off and he couldn't see any more. He needed those beautiful blue eyes to twinkle up at him in the low lights when they sneak into the R-rated movies together and hide in the back, giggling to themselves. He needed someone who wasn't weirded out by his strange shows of affection that required a lot of physical contact, something common for a West child.

Kaldur sighed frustratedly, looking desperately over at Artemis, Conner and Megan for help. The three exchanged glances, crossing the distance. Conner and Megan didn't dare get close to Wally though. They just stayed by Kaldur, taking their own hand at searching blindly. Artemis walked to the ginger's side, her blonde hair put up in the same boring ponytail, her costume off.

"Wally-," she began.

She went silent as she was pierced with Wally's glare. It felt as if someone had just stabbed her clear through with a sword. The emerald was circled with a red tint, angry tears burnt near the bottom and pure murder was written across them both. She stumbled back, her eyes wide. Then he turned his eyes back to the crowd at the computer.

"If you haven't found him yet, you aren't trying. If I'm stuck being the youngest member of this team, I will personally slit _all_ of your throats! _FIND HIM!_" Wally gritted his teeth, inhaling angrily, roaring at them all.

Everyone jumped. Artemis scrambled away from the ginger, her eyes wide with fear. Kaldur swallowed hard, daring to step forward.

"You don't understand," he tried, but Wally didn't want to hear it.

"I _do _understand! Some _bastard _came and _took _my best friend! I'm not just going to sit here and let him rot with some heartless kidnapper! I'm _going _to find Rob, whether you help me or not!" Wally shook with fury.

Kaldur didn't back off.

"Kid Flash, we have no way to track him. He has no working devices on him," he explained quickly, not wanting to be cut off.

He wished he had been though. Wally didn't like that answer.

"Robin would know how to find _you_ guys!" he reminded what was left of the team in the coldest manner possible, "He'd pull up his computer and in a second, he'd know where every one of you were being held!"

"_We're not Robin_," Conner reminded Wally, his voice dark and angry.

Wally froze, as if the thought had never occurred to him. He bit down roughly on his already scarred lip, bowing his head to the side. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping his tears would evaporate into the nothingness. They didn't, but they didn't fall either. The silence stung him like a knife because he knew it meant that the choky breaths he could feel bubbling up in the back of his throat would be even more noticeable.

"I… I just want my best friend back," he whispered roughly, his voice breaking.

Eyes met and looks were exchanged, but everyone in the room agreed on the same thing. They needed Robin back.

XxXxX

It was a small green book. It was probably seven inches tall, maybe five across. There was a darker green shaded square in the middle that protected that perfect white rectangle. On the little rectangle were just two simple words, printed neatly in black sharpie: The Rules. On the inside, there were nearly 300 pages, five inches tall, three across. Every page was carefully lined; a picture of a grave hidden by vines was penciled in on the corner of every page in the same plain green ink.

On each page, there was a new rule, scrawled down in messy writing with different pen colors, ranging in everything from red to an awkward brownish purple tint. Some were printed, some were in cursive and some looked like they had just been scribbled. At the end of each rule, there was a face with a little expression, usually a frown or a colon with a backslash. The list stretched on officially to sixty, but on the last page, penciled in roughly was one final rule, smudged lightly from the rain. No one would ever see it again though. It was hiding out of sight where it fully intended to stay until its pages rotted and turned into nothing but a pile of paper shards.

**Alright, so Bruce is a wreck, Wally's in pieces and the book is hidden. Apparently, there's a Rule 61, but Bruce won't be able to find the book for whatever reason. I haven't decided. Any bad guy requests? Any fan pairing requests? Anything in general? **

**-F.J. **


	4. Chapter 4

**11/11/11. I made a wish at 11:11. I hope you did too. I hope it came true. **

**Disclaimer: The idea was actually given to me by a reviewer so… **

Dick let out a choky sob, beating his fists against the broken concrete floor beneath him. His eyes were swelled shut from a hard blow too many. Tears fell roughly through the slits where a dark blue was hidden, all of them falling in pain. His body was numb and throbbing _everywhere_, even the places that were hidden by his oversized bloodstained t-shirt and his black basketball shorts. Bruises covered every other inch of his skin. The other inches were covered in deep cuts and puncture marks. His lip was busted and blood gushed from his obviously broken nose.

If he wasn't double jointed, his dislocated shoulder would be much more painful. He was positive that at least half of his ribs were broken, if not more, and he couldn't move his left leg without screaming in pain. The skin on his fingertips was busted, blood seeping dangerously through the torn skin and split nails. One of his ankles was twisted the wrong way. He couldn't walk; he couldn't escape; he couldn't survive this. All he could do was scream, sob and pray. He was running out of prayers though with every sob and scream that was forced from his lips as he tried to crawl away. When he saw the boot come at him again, he rolled over hard, a pained scream escaping his lips as his ribs ached.

"S… stop," he sobbed, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes all the way. "I give up! I surrender! P-Please, just stop!"

The boot stopped an inch from his stomach and he heard a cynical chuckle.

"You make this too easy!" the man's voiced sliced the air.

He knelt down at Dick's side, running a finger teasingly along his jaw line, wiping away a small string of tears as he did so. Dick whimpered in pain, trying not to move. When the hand left his face, he waited until the man got up off his knees before he dared to speak again. He weakly rolled his head to the side, shuddering in pain. He forced his eyes open, looking in pain up at his captor. The windows around him in the 'interrogation' room were cracked from the effort of the hits. The one way glass wasn't as strong as it had claimed.

"W… wait," Dick pleaded, reaching a shaky arm out toward the man.

With a frown, the man turned back at him, stomping down hard on his wrist. A sharp crack sounded and a howl of pain escaped Dick's lips. He pulled his wrist to his chest, cradling it weakly, his sobs worsening.

"What?" the man literally spat at him, his eyes narrowed.

Dick swallowed hard, recollecting what was left of his voice. It stung to speak with his broken lip, but he had to know something.

"I… Is Alfred okay?" he choked out, his chin dangerously shaking.

The man didn't smile. His face was completely emotionless as he stared down at the broken form beneath him.

"Who?" he was dead serious, not a tad bit of trickery to him.

A shaky whimper slipped past the bleeding lips, but he knew it was quite possible that they _didn't _know who Alfred is.

"T-The old man… the o-one you g-grabbed with m-me?" he prayed desperately, trying hard to keep together.

The man thought hard for the longest moment. The whole time, Dick's stomach tied itself into Christmas bows, tighter and tighter, just begging to be opened. He felt like he was going to be sick if he didn't get an answer soon. When the man answered though, Dick wished he hadn't. The man smiled widely, his eyes glinting with venom.

"Oh, yeah. He's dead."

Dick's jaw dropped in horror. Before, he had been stringing himself along on only that hope. Now though, he was pushed off his shelf and he shattered on the floor of the doll shop, his porcelain parts flying everywhere. The fake painted smile on his face was blasted off, joining what was left of his heart a few feet out of reach. His fake sparkling eyes broke, the blue leaking from them desperately, dripping down what was left of his cheeks as he was left there to die among the shards of his former self, watching as life itself began to fade out until he was just a smudged idea in a journal somewhere, the lines blotted by someone else's tears.

**I felt very confident about this chapter. Before you go and yell at me though, remember this: I love Alfred. That's all I'm going to say. I'm going to use all suggestions given to me. And to the little fucker that reported my KF/Rob list, rot in hell asshole. Review?**

**-FrankandJoe3**


	5. Chapter 5

**Who's Sam Hill? Who's Pete? Better yet, who cares? Sorry last chapter was so upsetting… And to those offended by "bible-humping brats"… Would that mean you admit to sitting down at one point and humping a bible for sexual pleasure? That's technically what I was referring to… I guess I'm sorry to offend you, but then again, why'd you read it? No one ever reads these parts!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing's changed. **

It was almost a week now without a word from the kidnappers, Dick or Alfred. In-between his frantic worrying, praying and times spent trying not to cry, Bruce did his best to try to escape the millions of policemen that stood guard for him, wanting to sneak into the Batcave to continue his own private searching for them both. He had managed to dash away a few times, getting in almost a full night of searching and probing each time, worrying the policemen to no end. The hardest part was probably getting back into the house without suspicion, but he _was _the Batman after all. He had a way with words.

After the first night of him slipping out, security was amped up. New cameras were placed next to the originals, recording devices were implanted everywhere, a tracker was 'secretly' sewn into his clothes which he managed to change out of each time without a slip-up; even his letters were opened by professionals who wore gloves and welding masks just in case. He found it all unnecessary though. He could handle himself. He didn't want too though. If the kidnappers got him, he'd be with his 'son' and his 'father' again and that was all he wanted, even if it meant the death of him.

On that sixth day of waiting, Bruce finally got word from the kidnappers. It came in a small white envelope, smelling like French Vanilla. The seal had already been broken from the professionals who had handed it over to him, grim expressions settling over their lips. He should've known from right there to stop, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Curiosity got the best of him though. He pulled the folded white paper out, reading it slowly. The letter was written using letters and symbols cut out from magazines pasted to the paper.

"**Dear Mr. Wayne,**

**We know your secret," **there was a small picture of a bat pasted beside secret, making Bruce's heart stop cold in his chest, **"If you want your boy back alive, the world has to know too. You have two weeks." **

Bruce should've stopped reading there. He should've just set the letter down right then and there and dashed off, trying like mad to find his baby boy. The bottom of the letter just seemed to call to him though, whispering his name, taunting him, teasing him, beckoning him. All it was at the bottom was a simple picture, but with it, Bruce kissed away the last possible chance of him ever being able to smile again.

There, in the picture, broken, dismantled and bloody, probably half-dead, was what he assumed to be Richard John Grayson. Everything looked broken, twisted, cut, bruised and bloody. There wasn't a bare patch of skin anywhere that wasn't marred or flawed. Even his before perfect hair was a mess, a million or so cowlicks sticking this way and that. His hand, the fingers of which were broken, was reaching for the camera desperately, blood pooling around his torso. If that wasn't bad enough, Bruce then noticed the words below the picture.

"**If you think this is bad, you should see the old man." **

Bruce finally lost it. Any glimmer of hope he had before suddenly shattered in an instant and he collapsed to his knees. The picture and envelope hit the ground long after his tears did.

XxXxX

Wally hadn't eaten in three days. His stomach growled in protest, but for all he cared, it could eat itself. He hadn't slept in three days. His eyes kept threatening to close, but he called their bluff and trudged on. He wouldn't train or take part in the missions or assignments. He just sat on the couch, curled up in a ball and sobbing his eyes out at anything brought up in casual conversation that reminded him of little Dicky boy. He didn't socialize, but when people tried to move him, he'd scream and groan in protest, using Cave-Man speak to argue.

He had spent the past three days praying, hoping and drowning in thought, regretting every little thing he'd done that had angered the little ebony. He tried to think of the last thing he had said to Dick, the last time he had seen him. They had trained on Tuesday night, but they had stayed up almost all of Wednesday night on the phone, from seven to one in the morning before Dick had claimed he heard someone coming upstairs, thinking it was his dad and hanging up, saying a final goodbye and hanging up fast.

_It wasn't his dad… why the Hell did I let him hang up? Why didn't he run? Why didn't he fight back? Shut up Wally, he didn't know. He was probably lying in bed, hiding and pretending to be asleep. They could've easily walked up to him, weapon in hand. By the time he realized it wasn't his dad, they probably knocked him out. He had no time… _Wally fought with himself, switching from one side of the battle to the other, not sure of which costume to don.

He was snapped from the battle, throwing out a white flag on both sides, as the portal announced an entrance.

"**Recognized: Batman**," was all he needed to hear.

His red tinted emerald eyes lit up, the faintest glimmer of hope flashing through them. It was hard to tell, even once someone looked past the rubbed raw cheeks. Batman's eyes met his first and Wally noted that the Dark Knight must've been sobbing too. Robin's mentor didn't look at him in disapproval for once though. His head bobbed up and down, looking from the disheveled red hair to the wrinkly hoodie over his shoulders before he seemed to shoot a look of empathy his way. In his left glove, he tightly clutched an envelope.

"A-A… Any news?" Wally spoke for the first time in what felt like forever, his voice sounding more like a prayer than a question.

When Batman said nothing, Wally finally got up off of the couch and walked cautiously to the costumed hero. Batman's frown deepened, if possible, and the eyeholes in his mask got small, as if he closed his eyes tightly. All of the hope drained from Wally's eyes and he swallowed hard.

"He's… He's o-okay, right?"

Batman couldn't open his mouth. Instead, he reluctantly handed the picture that he had torn off the note to Wally, setting a fist to his own lips and turning away as to not see the ginger's expression. Shakily, Wally took the picture into his hands. It took him a moment to realize what it was. When he recognized his best friend's body, he threw the picture to the ground in horror, letting out a strangled scream. He scrambled away from it, as if it were poisonous. Rough and violent sobs, stronger than the ones before it, threw him to the ground where he curled into a weak ball, his body violently convulsing.

"No!" he shrieked, covering his eyes with his hands, digging his nails into his head, bringing his knees as close as he could to his chest.

He kept screaming, each cry of pain just as loud and desperate as the last, pausing only for weak and feeble breaths. Every time he tried to stop to take a shuddery breath, Dick's broken body burnt further into his brain, making him scream again.

"Nggh!" he groaned in pain, "N-No!"

That was the last word he was able to speak before he ultimately broke down. Batman tried to swallow the huge knot in his throat, but it stayed. He had to bite his lip to stop it from trembling as he watched Dick's best friend tear himself to pieces, screeching and bawling in pain. The rest of the team, Artemis, Kaldur, Megan and Conner, came running quick at Wally's sounds of pain.

When they came into sight, they all stopped, confused. Their eyes darted from Wally's broken form on the floor to Batman who seemed close to it. They all moved close cautiously, choosing not to question. Conner was the only one who noticed the abandoned photo on the floor. He walked to it, breaking off from the others. He knelt down and scooped it up, studying it. He too, like Wally, took a moment to recognize his teammate, but when he did, his eyes swelled in horror, his lips parting in a near silent gasp. It wasn't quiet enough.

Megan curiously flew over, peeking eagerly over his shoulder at the picture in his hands. After she recognized Robin, she let out a cry of surprise, tears flying to her eyes, clapping her hands over her mouth. Kaldur and Artemis followed suit, both taking in their teammate's body. Kaldur screwed his eyes up almost instantly, bowing his head in sorrow. Artemis covered her mouth, her eyes widening, and she took a few shaky steps backwards. It looked like she was going to walk back beside Wally and lean against the couch for support, but she never got the chance.

Wally's screams were suddenly silenced as he leapt to his feet, bolting into the kitchen. Seconds later, the all too familiar sounds of puking filled the air. He had officially cried his limit. When the redhead had finished puking, he lay there over the trashcan, sobbing again. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help himself. Knowing that your best friend is better off dead then in the state they are isn't exactly a pleasant thought.

_I can't lose Dick _Batman thought to himself, thankful for a mask that could hide his tears _but I can't let the world know that I'm Batman… and Bruce Wayne… _

He scanned over the team through blurry eyes; from Wally who was literally puking his guts out to the others who were in tears. Then, his mind flashed back to the picture that Conner now held on to. He could see his whole world's broken body flash through his mind and he could still see the colorful letters on the bottom, '**If you think this is bad, you should see the old man**'. Only after a few tears began to fall, unnoticed by the others, Batman finally knew what he had to do. He had to find Dick's little green book.

**Okay, so now the team knows. They're sad. Boo hoo. I still don't know who the bad guys are. I have a slight idea though. And I know where the book is now (: Alfred is alive, so don't worry about him. Now, I must brainstorm who the bad guys are to be and what the Hell I should have Rule 61 be. **

**-F.J. **


	6. Chapter 6

**He wasn't there… but in my mind, he was, swaying with me to Forever. I can still see his soft lips as he gently sang into my ear, his head rested against mine. I can still feel his arms around my waist. I can hear him laughing lightly at my blush as I squirmed in his arms, reminding him that I was sick and I didn't want to infect him… I miss the insanity… **

**Disclaimer: The ideas are _mine_ but nothing else is. **

Dick moaned in agony behind his closed lips, wishing the arm and leg restraints weren't so tight. Every breath he was forced to take brought a whimper to his lips and a faint tear from his red eyes. He could feel his bones trying to heal themselves in their broken state and he had to choke back a sob at the thought of how bad it was going to hurt as the doctors would have to rebreak them just so they could heal. He could see himself clinging to someone's hands, preferably Wally's or Bruce's, or maybe even both, to try to lessen the pain, screaming in pain even under the anesthetics.

He shook his head weakly, doing a pathetic show of shaking the thoughts. He didn't want to focus on the pain. Instead, he did his best to switch back to think about his mentor back home. He prayed that his clothes had been discrete to the police who were probably hovering over him but obvious to his 'father'. He hoped his mentor had studied the messages left in the Batcave and found the journal by now, following the clues in it. He hoped that by now, Bruce had donned his costume and was talking with the team, assuring a sobbing Wally that he was fine and that he'd be with them again.

Eventually though, he had to stop thinking, the pain in his body too much to handle. He was officially whelmed, sadly watching the light tell him goodnight and sneak away. He didn't entirely pass out though. He just drifted into a dream.

_It was like every other ordinary night. Dick was laying in his bed on his back, wearing nothing more than a pair of colorful decorative boxers picked out solely for the purpose of sleeping in. All of the lights were off in his room, so the only light that shone came in through the window from the moon. He had the home phone pressed to his ear, talking casually with Wally like he always did. _

_Some nights, they'd just discuss the earlier mission of that day, laughing about the fails and commenting on how they would've been done faster if so-and-so had done something different. Other nights, they'd discuss things that were pissing them off. They'd discuss their hopes, dreams, prayers, wishes, desires, plans for the future and stuff like that. On lucky nights though, they'd talk about the past. Wally would tell Dick about the nights that his dad got drunk and beat him and the nights that he spent hiding in the corner of his closet, hugging his knees and praying that his parents wouldn't find him. Dick would tell Wally about what it was like to be in the circus, knowing that once you fell, someone would always be there to catch you. _

_Tonight was one of the lucky nights, but only on Wally's part. Dick had been in a sad mood, thinking about his parents like he often did. This was one of the worst days though, so he was telling Wally about that awful night four and a half years ago. The clock read 12:50, but he was only just getting to the end. Five hours of story telling on his part, often interrupted by Wally who threw in horrified gasps or amused laughs when necessary. _

"_And then… they just…" Dick wiped at his eyes, pausing for a deep breath, "Fell…"_

_He heard Wally inhale quickly. _

"_D… Dick…" he sounded ready to apologize. _

_Dick didn't want to hear it though. He curled one arm around his bare stomach, bringing his knees up lightly. _

"_I __screamed, __but __they __kept __falling__… __No __one __went __to __help __them. __They __hit __the __ground __so __hard__… __they __just__… _exploded_… __I__… __I __just __sat __there __and __sobbed. __They __actually __had __to __climb __up __the __tower __and __drag __me __down. __When __the __ambulance __came__… __they__… __they __didn__'__t __even __feel __for __a __pulse. __They __just __frowned __and __said,__ '__Yup, __looks __like __they__'__re __dead. __Such __a __shame__'… __Then, __some __people __in __uniform __came __up __and __practically __kidnapped __me__… __I __sat __in __an __adoption __center __for __three __days __before __they __actually __remembered __that __I __had __a __funeral __to __attend. __I __was __late __to __my __own __parents__' __funeral!__" _

"_Dude… O-Oh… Are you sure I can't come over? Just for a minute? You obviously need… someone… I'm so sorry…" although Wally's voice kept fading off, his words still managed to overlap as he began to speed talk like he often did when bothered, "That just isn't fair! They could've possibly survived the fall!"_

_Dick couldn't help but smile weakly as Wally continued to ramble on._

"_KF__… __K-__KF!__" __he __had __to __say __it __sharply __to __get __the __redhead __to __shut __up __long __enough __for __him __to __talk.__ "__You __and __I __both __know __that __there__'__s __no __way __they__'__d __have __survived __it. __It __was __probably __seventy __feet __or __something. __I__'__m __too __tired __to __do __math, __but __they __were __moving __pretty __fast. __And __you _know_ that __I __want __you __over __here. __Bruce __is __going __to __be __home __pretty __soon __though __and __if __he __catches __you __in __my __room __again, __he__'__s __going __to __ground __me __through __college.__" _

"_If you're tired, I can let you sleep. You have school tomorrow and I feel bad enough-," Wally began. _

"_No," Dick cut him off firmly. "I love talking to you. School can screw itself up the nose. I'll just pretend to be sick and sleep in again." _

_Wally laughed quietly, trying not to wake up his slumbering aunt and uncle. _

"_I still feel bad," he confided. _

_Dick could practically see Wally's face, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes sparkling mischievously and a shaky smile playing over his lips. The ebony opened his lips to tell him not to feel bad, but he heard footsteps. _

"_Shit," he mumbled to himself. "Wally- Bruce is home. I gotta go." _

_Wally groaned. _

"_Agh, fine. Call me tomorrow. Love ya," Wally said lightly, sounding depressed a little. _

_Dick smiled to himself. _

"_Love you too," he hung up, hiding the phone in his pillow. _

_He quickly scrambled under the covers, throwing them up to his chin and turning over so he was facing the wall. He slowed his breath but made it heavy so it was gaspy, just how he snored. He heard his door open and someone walk in. Dick didn't panic though. He just stayed still, holding up the act as long as he could. He kept his left eye open though, watching the shadows on his wall carefully. The shadow above his seemed to pull something from its pocket. The object was long and sharp looking. It raised it over its head. Dick let out a squeak, leaping out of his bed in a heartbeat, flipping over the assailant. He paused only to see who it was, screaming in disbelief as he recognized them. _

"_Y-You! Y-You're… no!" his fear gave him a sudden boost of adrenaline._

"_Dick!" the person called after him, their voice painstakingly familiar enough to bring tears to the scared dark blue eyes. _

_Dick __snatched __his __journal __off __of __the __dresser __as __he __bolted __out __of __his __bedroom __door, __jumping __over __the __balcony __railing, __flipping. __He __landed __hard __on __his __butt __on __the __couch, __but __he __didn__'__t __stop. __He __raced __down __the __hall __into __the __study, __flying __fast __to __the __Batcave. __He __had __to __call __Batman. __He _needed_ help. __He __shut __the __bookcase __behind __him, __thankful __that __the __elevator __was __fast. __When __it __stopped __in __the __room __of __metal, __he __flew __across __the __room __in __nothing __but __his __boxers.__He __didn__'__t __really __care __though. __He __fumbled __in __the __dark __for __the __phone __before __he __remembered __that __it __was __in __his __pillow._

_He groaned under his breath, cursing heavily. Instead, he picked up a pen and flipped to the back of his notebook. He knew he couldn't just write what he saw. Bruce wouldn't believe him if he had. Instead, he poked the pen between his lips, thinking hard. He eventually scribbled something down before dashing to the door that led to the garage. He slipped out the door, hiding the journal the best he could. He dashed back inside, his mind racing. He couldn't think straight. _

"_Crap… shit… damnit…" he ran his hands through his hair desperately. "What the hell do I do? Ach!" _

_Then, he thought of it. He had to leave some sign to show Batman where the journal was. Problem was that he didn't have any spray paint, markers or anything that would stand out against the metal considerably. He wasn't thinking straight anyway, so what he did next was just a desperate attempt. Screwing up his eyes, he brought his thumbs into his mouth, biting sharply down on the fingerprint, tearing the skin. He let out a weak scream of pain, but it was muffled by the blood that was now filling his mouth. He forced himself to the ground, drawing little arrows to the door in the strange way he did which always looked like a strange 1 with his bloody thumbs, spitting the excess blood on the ground at his side. It burnt, but it had to be done. _

_He added 6's in front of the arrows so it looked like it said 61, whimpering in pain as he did so, but that was still suspicious. He was reminded that 61 was the next rule in his book, giving him an idea. With a groan, he added "help me, rule" in front of the 61's, drawing as many as he could. He had to bite through his pinky fingerprints, muffling his screams again, but it worked. In a minute, only the skin on his index fingers was still intact. His hands throbbed though. They only throbbed worse when he heard the elevator start up. Someone was coming down. He let out a cry of surprise, darting across the ground. He didn't care that he was practically naked. He had to run. _

_Dick hopped onto his Robincycle, speeding out of the garage as fast as the door could open. He heard the elevator doors open just as the garage door was up enough to speed under, but that only inspired him to accelerate faster, his heart pounding in his chest, not daring to look back. He actually hoped that a cop would pull him over at the sight of his near naked body, but only after he got to where the journal note or 'rule 61' implied. _

Dick's eyes fluttered as the memory faded out and he groaned lightly. He liked being asleep better. It didn't hurt as much.

"Looks like little Aurora is awake," a female voice teased, referencing Sleeping Beauty.

Dick screwed his eyes up to avoid having to look at her.

"Bruce is going to get you," he reminded her through gritted teeth, "He's going to kill you for taking me and Alfred."

The woman smirked uneasily to herself.

"Now Dick, you know you don't want me dead. You couldn't handle that," she argued, walking up to him slowly.

Her heels clicked against the floor in a menacing pattern, reminding Dick of a ticking clock. He didn't argue, but it was true. If she died, he'd lose his mind, again. She leaned over him, her hair tickling his face, smiling sweetly down at him.

"I don't want you dead either baby," she cooed, lifting his hair from his forehead and pressing her lips delicately to his forehead, "but you were in too deep. You should've just accepted it and stopped there…"

Dick squirmed at her lips, but he had missed affection like that. She took her time in backing off, running her thumb along where her lips had touched to his forehead.

"How could I have accepted it?" he growled, keeping his eyes closed tightly.

The woman shrugged weakly, her eyes burning. She couldn't handle seeing her little darling in this state. She missed him.

"Even I couldn't accept it but… It was for the best…" she broke, resting her forehead on his.

He tried to squirm out from under her, but he ended up crying out in pain as he tried. He couldn't push her away. He just turned his head to the side so he wouldn't have to look at her.

"Dick…" she whispered his name, savoring the feel of it on her tongue. "I… I missed you…"

A tear fell from his eyes for her, but he didn't look at her. He never wanted to see her again. He wanted her gone. He wanted her to be six feet under, in her own tombstone where she belonged. Truth was, he had missed her too. He had really missed her. He had missed _this_. He liked his new life though. He had a best friend that was basically his world. He had a father and a grandpa that didn't die on him. Sure, he didn't have a mom, but Bruce loved him enough to fill the void on some days.

"I wanna go home," he choked out, shaking his head madly when she wouldn't back off.

"You are home," she said desperately, cupping his face in her cold hands, forcing him to lock blue eyes with her.

He shook his head, close to sobbing again.

"Not with you… you aren't home… I want Bruce… I want Wally… I want Alfred…" his bottom lip shook and he had to swallow a scream of pain.

The woman looked down at him sadly, taking the hint and standing back.

"You sat up every night sobbing after I left you and now, you think that you can just be over me?" her eyes narrowed obsessively. "I don't think so."

She patted his broken hand roughly making the strangled scream bubble up from his throat as he convulsed in pain. She shook her head shamefully, walking with a swagger away from him.

_XxXxX_

Bruce knelt down in the Batcave, confusingly staring at the elevator stats. It said that on the day Dick had disappeared, the elevator to the Batcave had been accessed twice, only minutes apart, after the alarm had been tripped. The first time it had been accessed, it had recognized Dick. The second time though, it had been hacked with skills that came pretty close to his protégé's. Whoever had followed Dick had to have taken him. When he saw that the camera hadn't gotten a solid picture of the assailant though, he switched the screen so he could check to see if the systems of the Batcave had recognized the fingerprints that had been on the envelope, the back of the stamp and the letter that weren't his own, the bomb squad or the mailman, seeing that the letter didn't have a return address.

To his surprise, the system had an error. It didn't recognize the print. He had searched through every data base. Anyone who had a VISA, a driver's license, a record or served in the army would've been checked. Either someone under the age of 14 had his family or he was dealing with ghosts. If the person he was dealing with wasn't dead, they had better hope to be soon before he got a hold of them.

**Alright, now you've been updated in the slightest on how Dicky boy's been taken. Just a little. I'm taking it slow like the proper boyfriend might. AND I KNOW WHAT RULE 61 IS! It came to me in a dream (: And I know who has Dick. I don't think any of you will suspect it. **note, she is not an enemy, and she is _not_from Marvel. I don't think she's officially in the DC universe… I won't tell you if you guess her right though. I spent five hours trying to pick her out and I'm keeping it a surprise!_No, __she __isn__'__t __Barbara __or __Kori __or __Zatanna __or __an __OC._Sorry the dream was sucky… Any POVs you want to see?**

_**I don't speak Spanish, Japanese or French, but the way that body's moving definitely makes sense. It's a body language~**_

**-F.J.**


	7. Chapter 7

**At my school tonight, they're putting on a play for the Wizard of Oz. When I heard, I started giggling madly to myself. When asked why, I couldn't tell because no one in that class knew about _The_WickedWizardofOz. I just kept right on laughing at my own inside jokes. When I heard who actually played Oz though, I stopped laughing and I got really sad. His name is Austin and he sucks… he's the principal's son. Maybe I shouldn't diss him… Well, he's a jerk so I'll just settle on that. And as for the kidnapper, everyone is on the right track… **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

"Many thanks," Alfred smiled warmly at the old gentleman, making his way down the porch steps.

"You sure ya don' wanna stay here anotha' night 'til ya hear from ya boys?"

The man who stood in the doorway was a little younger than Alfred, but only by a little. He was probably fifty with a gray beard that could touch his toes better than he could. It curled near the end and had a few random strands of black in it. His eyes were a warm shade of brown and he was bald up top, but he had a wide brimmed hat to hide that. He wore baggy overalls and a plain white shirt, his belly large from a keg too many. He was barefoot and his hands were well calloused.

Alfred had stopped at this man's door, a nice wooden cabin out in the middle of some heavy woods. He had a huge cut against his forehead that had been bleeding heavily at the time and he had been mumbling under his breath about someone being in danger, so the man and his wife had accepted Alfred into their home and cared for him overnight, cleaning his wounds, giving him food and offering him a place to rest up until he felt better. Alfred was flattered, but he really couldn't stay. When his memory had returned that morning, he knew that he was needed back home.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm needed back home. I'm sure my boys are worried sick over me. I wouldn't want them to lose sleep over something as silly as this," Alfred thanked him again, stepping onto the crude sidewalk.

The man on the porch hesitated, nodding slowly.

"Alraught… but if you gone go and change your mind, we're back here fo' ya. Take care of yourself now, ya hear?"

Alfred grinned to himself, turning to face the man one last time.

"Always. Take care of yourself too. Bless your hearts," then he started through the woods, returning a call of dismissal as the wife leaned out the open window and shouted at him to watch himself.

Alfred continued down the path until he couldn't hear the old western radio on the weather beaten porch. He wasn't quite sure where he was heading. He just knew that he had to find his way back to Gotham and back to Wayne Manor. He wasn't sure why he left the house in the first place, but he did remember the cut. He remembered everything up to the part where he had passed out and woken up in the woods, alone, tired and confused. He had stumbled and staggered around for a day and a half, trapped in a drunken haze, before he actually found a house. That house had taken one look at him and locked the door, so he kept on walking around until the fourth day when he felt ready to die, and he had actually found another home that willingly adopted him for the night.

As he continued on across the leaf strewn path, feeling refreshed and new, he fought himself to remember how he ended up in the woods, hoping that the good night's rest had knocked a few memories down.

It had been almost one in the morning when the bell had rang. Alfred, believing that Master Bruce had simply forgotten the key again, dutifully rose from bed and flew to the door. In the doorway stood a person, but it definitely hadn't been Bruce.

It had been a woman. She had long brown hair that hung messily in her hair, the two front parts of her bangs curling down into her eyes. Her eyes were red tinted, as if she had been sobbing. She was definitely pregnant, her belly inflated like a puffy balloon. She was clutching her stomach madly, blood oozing through her fingertips.

"Please," she had sobbed, "Y-You have to help!"

His paternal instinct kicking in like a flash, he invited her in and rushed her to the bathroom. She was sobbing in pain, clutching her stomach for dear life.

"How far along are you?" Alfred tried to keep it casual as he fumbled with the lock on the medicine cabinet.

A few years ago, Bruce had made an attempt at overdosing, long before Dick had came along, so Alfred had made a show of making a lock that Bruce couldn't pick to protect him.

"Eight months," the woman hiccupped, sniffling hard.

Alfred smiled weakly, sliding the lock off.

"Do you know the gender?" he didn't know why he kept it simple, but he felt it necessary to keep her sane.

The woman's breath shook dangerously and she moaned behind closed lips.

"A baby girl," she whispered, trying to laugh happily.

As Alfred began to open the mirror, he saw the woman move forward behind him. He started to turn, assuming she was falling unconscious and needed to be caught. He never did see what happened to her though. He assumed that she fell on him, not pushed him, and his head was slammed into the sharp shelves of the cabinet before he slipped, his head striking the bathroom counter before he fell unconscious, probably hitting his head on the floor as he did so.

As Alfred continued to stumble blindly through the woods, he couldn't help but worry for the poor woman. She had been hurt ever so horribly! He hoped her baby was alright and that she had managed to get help. She had probably run upstairs to fetch Dick and he had helped her. That boy had a good heart on him. Maybe Dick had carried both Alfred and the woman to one of Bruce's many civilian cars and illegally drove them both to the hospital. On the way home, he might've been pulled over by a cop and he would've had to spend the night in a cold jail cell, waiting for Bruce to come fetch him after work ended. He was sure that that was what happened. Nothing else would make sense. After all, a pregnant woman couldn't be _that _harmful.

**Do you guys want more info on to how Dick knows this chick? I had a Bruce chapter planned ahead that would definitely give away the killer… everyone who reviewed is definitely on the right track, but like I said, I can't tell quite yet. And no, the woman is not/was not pregnant in the DC series. She never appeared with a preggo belly. I don't even know if she really was a brunette, but I'm making her one because I can't find two matching pictures of her in the comics. She's always got her back turned or she's styled different _ Review? **

**-F.J. **


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm trying to write "just a kiss", but I can't be happy… I can't smile… so I shall make this very upsetting. **

Dick sobbed heartbrokenly, digging what was left of his nails into his palm from the pain. His breath was staggered, but he definitely wasn't sobbing as hard now. He was still in pain, but it must've died down a little, if even that. Or maybe he just decided sobbing wasn't going to get him anywhere soon so he should just try to get calm. When you can think though, you can focus on pain and that was the last thing he really wanted. The clearer his mind got, the more pain he felt and the greater the need to sob became, so he let himself still cry his heart out to distract himself. It wasn't doing a good job though. In fact, it freaking hurt.

"Please baby, don't think of it like that. You're home now… and soon, you're going to have a baby brother… I can't be your mother, but I'm going to try my hardest… This can be your new home… That nasty man back at your house, he won't be able to hurt you anymore. I can tell he hurts you honey… I see you crying and I feel so bad…" the woman continued her delusional rambles.

"_You aren't home_," Dick growled for the last time, murder in his voice. "Home is where… home is where your parents tuck you in… and kiss you goodnight… Home is where you're loved and wanted. Home is where you belong and aren't judged, no matter how different you are. Home is where your heart is. True, my heart isn't with Bruce, but it damn well isn't with you!"

His tears reminded her of waterfalls; never-ending but beautiful. The only part of it that actually made her hurt was how furious he sounded. He actually sounded like he wanted her dead. How dare he! It was as if he had forgotten who she was? Need she remind him? No, she didn't. It probably wouldn't be best to anger him further. She wanted his love, not his hatred. She was doing her best and that was all she could offer.

"But it can be," she tried to argue, setting a hand over his good hand this time. "I'll take you to their graves and you can say goodbye one last time… you can get your heart back and we can-…"

"My heart isn't with my parents," he snapped furiously, his voice bouncing around the room and silencing her.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she backed up lightly, curling her hands into fists. She couldn't help but be moody. After all, she was eight months pregnant. What did you expect?

"Then… who has your heart?" she folded her arms over her chest, pursing her lips furiously.

She tapped her heels against the floor, wishing her ankles weren't so swollen. She felt fat, ugly and unappreciated. She was just feeling what any sane woman was. Dick didn't see why he should answer her, so he didn't. He frowned at himself for even commenting. It was too late though. He had already said it and it was out there. He knew it would drive her mad, but he really didn't care. His mind was changed as she tapped his chest roughly. Regularly, it might be considered a loving gesture, but it brought pained screams to his lips.

"_Who has your heart_?" she asked again, evil laced in her blue irises.

He whimpered in pain, twitching under her hand. He screwed his eyes up, unconsciously arching his back in agony. That only made things worse. He screamed harder, balling his hands into fists. His broken fingers bent and he screamed again, trembling all over. When the sharp pain faded into a dull throb, he finally opened his mouth.

"Half of my heart… is with my parents' bodies… but the other half… it's… it's with my… it's with the person I know will never love me back… And you'll never get either half because I don't just loan my heart to people… When I give my heart to someone, I give it to them _forever_," he shook in pain, but he still managed to sound strong.

He was an independent soul and when he believed in something, he followed it to the end and back until he was sure that no one else could change his mind. His heart was a delicate topic. When his parents had died, it had ultimately shattered. When Bruce adopted him, he had offered the Band-Aids, tape and glue needed in hope to repair his heart. All he had managed to do was fix the heart into two big portions. The bigger part of it he buried with his parents, digging it a grave and reburying it so it lay between both his mother and father.

The second half though, he had saved it with him until he had met this one person. He had met them three years ago, back when he was new at the whole hero thing. They had been nice to him, protecting him and caring for him. Without this person's knowing, Dick had given them his heart to be nice to, protect and to care for. He couldn't tell this person that they had his heart, but he was sure that they had the slightest idea about it. After all, no one is _that _oblivious.

"Who's the other person?" the woman asked Dick, setting a hand to his forehead.

He was burning up, not to mention he was sweating a storm. He was a deathly pallor with light red patches going over the pale, mostly in his cheeks. He definitely looked sick, or something close to it. That didn't mean that she didn't want him to tell her though. She wanted to know the person that kept her away from the boy she wanted to call her baby.

"I'll never tell," he gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes up tighter.

The woman raised an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side, silently issuing a challenge. When the ebony didn't back down, she frowned hard.

"Oh, is that right?" she confirmed, blinking slowly, "Are you sure about that? Think _nice and long _about your answer…"

Dick didn't have to think about it.

"If I tell you who they are, y-you're going to k-k-kill them and I can't l-lose them," Dick found it hard to keep using 'them' instead of the real gender, but he didn't want to give his captor any hints at all.

The woman ran a hand over her hair, inhaling sharply.

"I see… I'm going to ask you one last time, except I'm going to rephrase this. Would you rather tell me their name freely or would you rather me torture it out of you?" she taunted it.

She loved him to death, literally. That's why she was doing this. She needed to know who it was that kept her from the perfect life that she had planned out on paper. She didn't want to lose him and she hated to see him in pain, but the job _always _came first.

"When I gave them my heart, I vowed that I'd die for them, no matter the circumstances. Do what you want, but I'll never give them away. I'll proudly die for them," he leaned up weakly and with the best of his energy, he spit at her.

Lucky for him, it hit her. She didn't like that.

"You ungrateful bastard," she growled under her breath, "I offered to give you the life you had before! I offered you happiness! Now, you leave me no choice!"

She walked closer to him, grabbing his good hand in hers, leaning down and pressing a final kiss to his forehead.

"Just know that even though I'm hurting you, I love you with all of my heart," her voice quivered.

Dick leaned back down, wiping his eyes off on his shoulders. He mumbled a string of curses under her breath.

"Bloody freaking hypocrite," were the last few words he spoke before his captor started her technique.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out what looked to be just a nail file. Dick screwed his eyes up tight as his ribs took back to aching. He didn't regret keeping the owner of half his heart a secret though, but he did regret bringing it up. That made him feel like the worst kind of idiot. Whatever worked though. It's not like she'd actually kill him anyway. She _needed _him. It didn't mean that she wouldn't torture it out of him in the most painful way she knew. She lifted his shirt up until it just barely showed all of his abs.

She turned the nail file to the sharp hook part, poking it between her lips for a moment before taking it down to the exposed stomach. She grinned to herself, running her eyes over his stomach, finding a spot that wasn't vital. She couldn't afford to lose him. When she found a spot, she gently set the hook to the skin of his stomach. Just the simple touch was enough to make him wince in anticipation. He wasn't scared exactly, but she technically had ordered one guy to beat him until he was crippled, so he had reason to be on edge. He should've been scared sick though.

The metallic edge was slowly and roughly shoved against the skin of his stomach, crossing her eyes in concentration. Dick cried out in pain, tears flying as he sat up, attempting to move away from the blade. When he sat up, he hit his broken ribs against the restraints, sobbing in pain as he fell back down. When he hit, the nail file just managed to break his stomach skin. He screamed in pain. Something was on the hook of the nail file that wasn't supposed to be there. It felt like it was laced with lemon juice or Germ-Ex. When she pulled the blade back, she simply moved an inch to the right, trying to pierce the skin there too. Sharp stings of pain began to pulsate from the one inch cut across his stomach.

He felt so weak as he screamed from such a small cut, but he was sure that the woman had lemon laced spit or something because that really hurt. To make it worse, she set a hand to his ribs and pushed on them to give herself leverage so the blade would stay in her control, so it hurt even worse than it should have. He screamed louder as she got more courageous with her cutting. He wasn't going to give up though; he would never give in. She could be tying a rope around his neck and dangling him above a huge pit of poison tipped swords. He really couldn't care less. He didn't care what Batman had taught him. To him, love came first, then family, and then work. That's how it was to him and that's how he intended it to stay.

XxXxX

Wally shakily opened his laptop, ignoring the growls of his stomach. It could sing opera for him and he'd still ignore it. He didn't need food. He needed his friend back. He weakly typed, hoping he'd be able to see clearly again soon. He had been puking non-stop ever since Batman had brought the update on Robin. Crying that hard wasn't good for anyone. He was pretty sure that if Justin Timberlake asked, he could actually cry him a full blown river. Now, he was just checking his email. For someone who was hopeless, he still had a lot of hope.

He pulled up his inbox, not really expecting to see anything. He saw something though. There was an email from Robin. The subject was 'Top Secret, Tell and I'll Chop Your Balls off with My Bare Hands'. Then, the first five words were written in capslock, bold, italicize and underlined, but I'm pretty sure with the stupid settings of fanfiction, all you'll see are the bold and italicize and capslock: _**MY BARE HANDS, DAMN YOU**_. His attention was definitely caught. He zoomed down, downloading the file that was sent before he read the email.

"_Dear Wally, _

_I'm dead serious. You can't show **anyone **this. Not your uncle, not your aunt, not even Batman. If by the time you get this, I'm dead, I'll find a way to forever haunt you and make your life a living nightmare. In the folder attached is the work I've gotten done in the past four and a half years. I've been working ever since my parents died, but I'll go into details about that way later. I know I'm going to be kidnapped. I noticed some lady following me at Gotham Hospital and I know I don't have much time left. I need you to finish my work. I'm so close to being done. I just have a few things left to confirm. I have a feeling that if you finish this in time, you can save me. _

_You can't show Batman though, and not the team. You **have **to work on this by yourself. It's not that I don't trust them. It's just that they'll think I'm insane and I can't have my only family thinking I belong in a straitjacket. Guard this file with your life. Even more then that if you must. My life is in your hands… or however that goes… _

_More love than you could imagine,_

_Dick Grayson"_

Wally's lips dropped open and he automatically flew to the uploaded file, hope filling his heart. He was going to save the Boy Wonder. He wasn't going to follow Robin's orders though. He was going to need help on this. More specifically, he was going to need Batman.

**Okay, next chapter, you'll figure out what's in the file. It's basically why he got kidnapped. You might be interested in that. I have to write a bunch of fictionated non-fiction for that chapter though… Grr. That tells ya'll that I must really love you. Ha (: Review?**

**-F.J. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Damn, fanfiction's being a bitch. I have an hour to type this… Me and Bailey convinced Noah that I was a guy and that me and her got it on one night and had a kid… He's so stupid XD**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing… except for the fake articles that I probably didn't type. **

Wally looked through the printed file in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed from thinking. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing angrily under his breath.

"Damnit Rob," he growled under his breath, "You just _love _to screw with me, even when you're not around…"

He set the papers on the floor around him. He looked from picture to picture, his eyes scanning vaguely over the newspaper articles. He didn't know where to start. He was almost afraid to. These papers around him were possibly the reason that Dick had been kidnapped. He wasn't sure he wanted to know why his whole world was gone. Then again, if reading this meant he could bring back his ebony, it would totally be worth it. He wasn't sure where to start though. He definitely needed help, but he didn't want to call Batman. That took the kind of balls that he lacked. He respected Dick's requests and he plunged into the mess alone, grabbing the most interesting looking piece.

The torn out article was dated back to August 16th, 2007. The title was ripped across the top so only the lower half of the letters was visible. No matter how hard Wally stared though, he could only interpret half of the title. He got 'Wayne' and 'Child', but there were a few words squished in-between them. He assumed it was 'Wayne Adopts Orphaned Child', but the third word was too short to be orphaned. It could've been Grayson, seeing that little Dick's last name was Grayson, but he really couldn't tell. 'Wayne Adopts Grayson Child' didn't really make any sense to him.

The pictures were mostly of legendary Bruce Wayne with some little kid. Captions underneath mentioned Bruce Wayne being spotted with 'the son of the Flying Graysons, only days after the tragic accident'. Wally couldn't help but assume that the boy had to be Dick, seeing that it said 'son of the Flying Graysons'. He didn't know anything about his little ebony knowing how to fly, although that would explain "Robin". In most of the pictures, Dick had on a pair of sunglasses to hide his face or Bruce was holding a hand up to block his or his boy's face. He was obviously peeved that he was being stalked by mindless reporters. Wally's eyes curiously dug into the article.

"_Only 72 hours ago, Richard Grayson, the only survivor of the Graysons' suspected murder on the 12th, was put into a foster home. Earlier today, he was spotted leaving the foster home with none other than Gotham's multimillionaire, Bruce Wayne. No comment from Wayne or the young Grayson, but the owners of the foster home told us that Wayne did in fact sign the sheet and check Grayson from the home. He did not officially adopt Grayson though. He just agreed to ward Grayson until any kin was found. _

"_No one is particularly sure why Wayne decided to ward a child in the first place, but a few suspect that Wayne saw himself in the child. After all, in his childhood, his parents had been killed in front of him as well. Witnesses report seeing Wayne at the last few performances at Haley's Circus, but nothing is confirmed. For more information, go to page 13…" _

It was a surprisingly short article, but it looked like it was the Sunday paper so it was no surprise. Wally furrowed his eyebrows, bringing the article up close to his eyes where he could see it better. Better yet, he brought the pictures of young Dick up close to his eyes. It almost didn't look anything like his little bird. His hair looked messy and out of place, he had huge bags under his eyes, he looked way too thin to be healthy and he looked scared out of his mind.

"Why would Rob want me to see this?" he mumbled to himself, setting the article back down.

He turned his attention to another article. It had Batman in one picture, fleeing from the scene. Another was a picture of what had to be the smallest and cutest version of Robin that he had ever seen. The cape was two sizes too long, his mask nearly took up all of his face, the actual costume make-up was weaker and less-updated than it was now and he was wearing torn Converse instead of his regular boots that had mismatching laces. It was really cute, but when he read the title, his heart fell. 'Grayson Accident Confirmed as a Murder'. He was almost afraid to read it. He made a word selection and ended up putting 'Grayson' and 'Murder' together. What hadn't Dick told him? Or was he just over thinking this like usual? With a sigh, he let his eyes scan over the article.

"_What the world had come to know as the Great Grayson Accident is now the Tragic Grayson Murder. Batman finally confirmed it on Monday with his new sidekick, Robin. They confirmed that the bolts on the trapeze wires were purposely removed. It wasn't an accident by the circus. They also confirmed that the murderer was none other than notorious mob boss, Anthony Zucco. The Italian criminal was quickly put behind bars. Batman refused to give a comment, but his sidekick had a word or two to offer for eager reporters. _

'_That rotten prick deserves much more than prison. People like him shouldn't exist in our world. That's why I want to be a hero. The world shouldn't have to know about people like that. When I'm older, maybe the world will finally be a good place to live… or maybe we'll just dig ourselves deeper into Hell… whatever works'._

Wally put the newspaper down, running a hand through his red locks of hair. He took a deep and broken breath before setting the article down on the floor. Was Dick _trying _to make him cry? It was working! The ginger unconsciously pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them there tightly with one arm, pulling his hoodie over his head with the other. Then, he picked up one of the few articles, holding it weakly in his free hand. He looked at little Dick longingly as his bottom lip began to tremble.

"Damnit!" he screamed as he broke again, painful tears falling from his eyes.

He pressed his face against his knees to muffle his screams of anger. He clutched to the article in a death grip, tears streaming angrily from his scarred emerald eyes. His jeans muffled his pain, but just barely.

"Please be okay… I miss you…" he sobbed, digging his nails into his leg, shaking madly.

He sat there in pain for what seemed like forever. Wally was perfectly content with sobbing his eyes out until Dick returned. He didn't sob that long though. His tears were stopped in mid-track when he felt arms wrap around his stomach. He tensed, his eyes swelling. His eyes flew to his midsection, but there were no arms. In fact, there was no one in the room besides him. He still felt the arms. They were tighter now. And he swore that he felt a head rest against his shoulder. Shakily, he set a hand to where he felt the head resting. He swore that he could feel soft and short hair. His eyes widened and he slowly lowered his hand back to his side.

"_Wally… please don't cry… Don't give up on me! You're my only hope… I… I love you… Please… Save me…" _the ginger's toes curled at the voice that rudely intruded on his mind.

He could've sworn it was Dick, whispering into his ear. That's exactly what it sounded like. It obviously wasn't though. Wally jumped to his feet anyway, his eyes desperately scanning the room for any sign of his little ebony. Dick was nowhere to be seen though. Even the arms he had sworn he had felt seconds ago had disappeared. Wally balled his hands into furious fists at his side, bowing his head as the tears started again.

_I'm insane… I'm crazy… I'm losing my mind… I'm losing my birdie… Damnit Rob, why'd you have to go and get kidnapped?_

He definitely needed help… or sleep. Sleep was easy. With a weary sigh, Wally shoved all of the papers back into his folder. He was afraid to put it anywhere that could be seen, discovered, found or taken. With a weak frown, he shoved his folder down his white shirt, buttoning his jacket up all the way. Then, he walked over and locked all three of the locks on his bedroom door. Paranoia for the win. He threw the lock on his window, pulling the shades down and pulling the curtains. He even slipped a few belts around his middle, just in case.

Once he was sure that he was safe, he climbed into bed and turned onto his side so he wasn't facing any of the windows. He tucked himself in, just like a cocoon. He pulled his knees to his chest.

"Don't worry Rob…" Wally whispered mostly to himself, his tears falling slowly onto his pillow. "I'm going to save you…"

_No one_ was going to keep him from his best friend. Not even himself.

**Last line was a reference to the fact that he thinks he's losing his mind… Sorry it's short. Whose POV do you want up on Saturday? I'm going to Abby's house tomorrow so… Many apologies. Review?**

**-F.J. **


	10. Chapter 10

"**Some times… people bring out the worst in you… I don't know why we're still together…" You're together because you don't want to hurt us. If you and him weren't married… we'd… I don't want two dads. I don't want two moms. I just want one family. I don't want to spend every night, digging scissors into my legs, sobbing because I can't be 'whole' again… I want it to be like it was before Jack was born… **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except this cruddy broken heart, but if anyone wants it, you can take it. I don't need it anymore… I'm just a white blood cell, fighting like hell for you… **

"Oh dear," Alfred frowned to himself, patting his pockets.

He seemed to have misplaced his spare key. How terribly embarrassing! Bruce would have his head for such an avoidable mishap. The poor boy must've been worrying himself half to death! The butler ran a hand over his balding head, sighing heavily. He wasn't too ashamed though. Bruce would surely understand. With a sheepish smile, Alfred set his fist to the door and knocked a merry tune, waiting patiently. He dropped his hand to his side when he saw someone he presumed to be Bruce or Richard open the door. He was surprised to see that it was someone he didn't know standing there, weapon in hand. Alfred jumped.

"Oh!" he held his hands up by his head to show he held nothing that could be dangerous.

The man seemed to be a police officer of a sort, wearing a bullet proof vest. What in the world was a police officer doing in the house? Did Bruce worry that much about his disappearance? How silly!

"Who are you?" the man demanded to know, his voice even more gravelly then Batman's best voice.

Alfred kept his eyes on the gun in front of him, doing his best to stay calm.

"Alfred Pennyworth. I'm the butler," he curtly introduced himself.

The uniformed man nodded and moved back just enough for Alfred to walk into the house. The first thing he saw was a clear shot of the study ahead of him. He saw Bruce sitting with his legs spaced, resting his elbows on them, his posture positively dreadful. Across from him was a red haired teen with freckles… oh, what did Richard refer to them as? Ginger? Gingers… Yes, that'd be it. There was a ginger in his living room who looked to be about 16 or so, leaning back in the arm chair, one leg folded the other, hugging himself weakly.

When Bruce spotted Alfred, he gasped, rising from his seat slowly in disbelief at first. Only once he was sure that it was Alfred he was seeing, Bruce dashed down the hall, enveloping the old man in a bone crushing hug, setting his chin on the dirtied shoulder of his 'father's tuxedo jacket. Alfred let out a surprised grunt, but he eased into it, smiling with confusion. He wasn't used to such affection, but it delighted him to no end. He returned the hug for a moment before Bruce pulled away, hope decorating his tear filled eyes. His eyes darted around.

"I-Is Dick with you?" Bruce demanded to know, wiping at his eyes.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. For a second, it seemed as if it was Bruce who had struck his head against the countertop.

"No...? Is he not upstairs?"

The butler glanced up the stairs, expecting to see the little boy dash down the stairs, giggling to himself before tackling both Bruce and him in a huge hug. From the tear tracks on the ginger and Bruce's faces, Alfred assumed that he wouldn't get a hug from the ebony. The hope from Bruce's face faded and he hugged Alfred tightly again, tears threatening again. Alfred comfortingly patted Bruce's back, confused as ever.

"Where is Master Richard?" he demanded to know.

The ginger in the study set a hand to his lips to stifle a choky breath, screwing up his eyes in pain. Bruce just hugged him tighter, his breath becoming rough. Alfred frowned, reluctantly slipping out of Bruce's vice grip. He walked into the study, stopping in front of the ginger. He glanced from him to Bruce, back and forth.

"Who are you?" he asked the redhead first.

From up close, he nearly gasped at the sight of the teen. You could tell that he had been crying heavily lately. His skin looked tender and raw almost, his eyes lined with more tears. He was as pale as one could get, all of the color in his broken cheeks. He was a mess to say the least.

"This is Wally, one of Dick's friends," Bruce introduced him.

Wally weakly held out his hand towards the butler and they shook weakly. The teen's hand shook madly.

"Oh yes," Alfred smiled in recognition, "Master Richard spoke very highly of you."

Wally's eyes widened for a moment before he choked, his hand flying back to cover his mouth for a moment. A tear fell from his emerald eyes. He coughed it off.

"I… I'm glad you're alright," he whispered, bowing his head.

His suddenly unkempt hair fell down into his eyes in an insane manner that drove the butler simply mad. He understood though. From the way Dick praised Wally, one might think they were in love. Such a silly notion, but it was possible. If so, Alfred would support them of course, but… Oh gee, where was I? Got off track. My sincerest regrets.

"What are you doing here Wallace? Where is Richard?" Alfred inquired.

He felt so 'out of it', as the teens might say. Wally stared hard at his knees, pulling his hood up over his head.

"Dick… disappeared more than a week ago. Yesterday, he sent me a file holding four years worth of a project he's been working on… I was going to tell Batman, but he hasn't been seen around for a long while now… so I figured I'd tell Dick's father about it…" he explained, sounding as deflated as the balloons left standing on the empty circus grounds as the acts pack up, ready to leave this town to another to humiliate and perform in front of random strangers.

Alfred's eyes widened and he glanced to Bruce, asking for some sign that this was all some joke inappropriate at this minute, seeing that Alfred had no recollection of why he had disappeared, but Bruce's eyes held the same bone-chilling shadows as usual. A weak gasp slipped past his old chapped lips as he realized it had to be true. He weakly stumbled back, taking a seat in the chair Bruce had abandoned as his knees grew weak.

"So… that woman… she didn't… i-it wasn't her, right?" Alfred didn't know why the others were staring at him confused.

He narrowed his eyes at Bruce.

"Of all people! Bruce, you spy to no end on your… 'son'! He disappears and you go weak? Get your fanny upstairs," he ignored the weak snicker from Wally at the old-time language, "and find out where your boy is! He learned from the best after all. He wouldn't just let himself get whisked away!"

Bruce ran a hand through his hair.

"I already ran through security footage. The woman spotted entering Dick's room and attempting to stab him… the woman who followed him to the…" Bruce glanced discreetly to the certain bookshelf, "the woman who chased after him into the night… I looked her up. She doesn't exist. She's not on any map. I fear we're… dealing with a professional…"

Alfred forced himself to his feet and stormed over to the man he considered his son, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"No, she is _not _a professional! She's a pregnant woman who has our- er, your baby! _YOU _are the professional! Now use your professionalism and get Master Richard back, or _so help me, I'll-_!"

Bruce held up his hands in protest.

"I get it Alfred. I'm doing all I can though…"

"Then do more! Bite the bullet, swallow your pride and _ask for help! _The world isn't afraid to help a man as praised as you!" Alfred scolded with all of his heart, kicking into his paternal instincts.

Bruce's eyes widened.

"I have the FBI, CIA, the police force, the coast guard and the Justice League looking for him! What else can I do?" he cried in defense.

Alfred turned his eyes to Wally, marching his way.

"You heard the ginger," Alfred glanced back at Bruce, "Richard's been working on a project for four years. _Finish it_. I'm going to go look through the footage!"

He stormed off, mumbling about 'sending an old man to do a father's work', leaving Bruce and Wally alone again. Wally grinned weakly, laughing dryly.

"Best old man ever," he declared before the soberness faded back into the picture.

Bruce looked at the folder on the table, picking it up.

"Alright kid… I'm not quite sure I like you and you seem to be scared shitless about me, but this is for the sake of Dick. Let's finish what he started."

**There. They're starting to pick it up. And yes, I made Alfred a badass. It's only because I love him. Very out of character, but I don't care. Their son/ grandson/ best friend is gone. What'd you expect? Who's POV next?**

**-F.J. **


	11. Chapter 11

**So… I got on the computer to type. (This be me, not F.J.) I found that F.J. left me five open documents, all for chaptered stories I haven't updated in a long while with lengthy letters on each of them! Most of the letters just told me what the fans might want or what she wanted, selfish bitch, but it gave me a chance to go back through my old stories and smile at how bad some of them were ^.^ So today _should _be a good update day. Don't hold me to that though. This one was written by me. F.J.'s got the next one. I'm not in a very good typing mood I suppose. Not until Family Guy's over. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even the ideas. Those are F.J.'s.**

Alfred watched the footage one last time, frowning to himself. He felt like Bruce as he hunched over in the leather chair, interlacing his fingers and resting them against his chin. His eyes were squinted in the low light as he tried to keep his eyes on Dick's figure in the monitor.

"How Bruce does this is beyond me," Alfred remarked calmly to himself.

For what had to be the eighth time, the old butler saw the little ebony throw something into the bushes before dashing back into the secret entrance to the Batcave. He wasn't quite focused on what Dick was hiding in the bushes though. To focus on Dick's hands would mean to focus on the fact that we was wearing nothing more than his boxers and that wasn't quite at the top of Alfred's list of things to do today.

XxXxX

Bruce flipped through the final newspaper article in the folder, a faint smile over his lips. He was lost in old memories, way too far out at sea to be saved. He was just treading on old water, expecting to soon drown and be put to rest at the bottom of it all, never to be rescued. A small siren sliced the surprisingly peaceful air though, reminding Bruce that he wasn't alone in the memories.

This 'siren' wasn't near as loud as one might think though, which actually made Bruce freeze in place from surprise. It was barely above a whisper, if even that. His brown eyes darted up from the newspaper article in his hand, darting to the source of the near silent siren. It was Wally. The ginger had his elbows resting on his knees, bowing his head in an effort to hide his sobs. In his hand was a small cut-out picture of none other than Richard Grayson, the night he was adopted.

_How close _were_ they? I've never seen Kid Flash upset… let alone sobbing_ Bruce thought sadly to himself, wishing the knot in his stomach would leave.

He had half a mind to get up and awkwardly comfort the broken teen, but he wasn't sure of what he could possibly do to make the matter better. If he didn't have a reputation to uphold, he'd probably still be doing the same, or something close to it. Wally seemed to feel Bruce's stare, tensing greatly. He brought his left elbow up off his knee, scrubbing at his eyes madly. Even with his tears being muffled, gaspy breaths still spilled from his lips.

"I… S-Sorry M… Mr. Grayson," Wally apologized with a shaky sigh, scrubbing even harder at stay tears.

Bruce's heart skipped a sorrowful beat.

"It's uh… It's Mr. Wayne," Bruce half-heartedly corrected him, setting a free hand to his neck.

"E-… Excuse me? You… you are Dick's father… right?" Wally suspiciously peered over his jacket sleeve.

A frown passed over Bruce's lips and he cocked his head, not sure whether to not or shake his head.

"I am… Dick's… guardian," he explained slowly, "Mr. Grayson… he isn't with us anymore… so I am watching Dick until some other family member comes to properly adopt him."

Wally bound his arms around his stomach, a crystal tear hesitating on the tip of his nose. He rubbed it off onto his already stained jacket shoulder.

"H-He's… he's adopted?" Wally twisted Bruce's words around.

Bruce shook his head slowly, averting his eyes to the newspaper article.

"He is not adopted."

Wally's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

"So… if you're not his dad but you didn't adopt him…" Wally began to think, probably one of the scariest things possible for him to do.

Lucky for Bruce, Alfred came tearing down the stairs, his face set in determination. Bruce's head snapped up, his eyes hopeful.

"Alfred!" he did his best to keep his voice calm as he greeted the man who might be able to change the spotlight on the scene at hand, "Any luck?"

Alfred smirked to himself.

"Bruce, my dear boy…" he began to scold, setting a hand to the banister as he carefully touched back down to the ground again, "I believe I may have… a 'break through'… if you would."

Bruce handed the newspaper article back to Wally before getting up and walking fast to Alfred's side. He had assumed that it'd be something about the Batcave, but Alfred simply pushed him back.

"What I can tell you, I have to tell Wallace. With how much Dick boasts and brags about him, you'd think that they were peas in a pod, seeds on a strawberry, and stitches on an old jacket. Besides, Wallace came to _us_. We owe him no less," Alfred muttered under his breath, watching carefully as Wally collected his stuff, heading for the door.

"Thank you for… for listening… I uh… call if you hear anything," Wally frowned shyly, feeling like the mother of all wimps.

Bruce almost let him leave, but Alfred roughly nudged him, shooting him a knowing glare. With a reluctant frown, Bruce reached out and caught Wally by the shoulder.

"Hey… kid… Do you want to… help us?"

Bruce had the bullet in his mouth, but he couldn't quite bite it through. His pride was making his tongue puff up so he couldn't swallow it either. A few feeble ounces crept down his throat, but that was all he could manage. Wally's eyes screamed and sobbed yes with all of their might, but a shaky, "No…" slipped past his lips.

"I… I don't want to get in the way," he explained himself, feeling uncomfortable under the confused glances.

Bruce's hand didn't move from Wally's shoulder.

"We could use the help," Bruce hinted strongly, hoping that just maybe Dick had taught his best friend the language of the eyes.

Wally saw the brown flash from the cops to the folder and he got the slightest of an idea.

"Oh… I-I guess... if you need the help…"

Bruce dropped his hand and followed Alfred out the door. Wally followed Bruce, turning to the cop by the door to stop him.

"I'll protect them," Wally said, the cop's gun suddenly in his hand.

The cop jumped out of his skin, his eyes quickly flying down to his empty gun holster. He felt a faint breeze, but he was too busy looking around for his gun, thinking he had misplaced it. When he looked up, wanting to examine the gun in the redhead's hand, he was shocked to see that Wally was at least twenty feet in front of both Bruce and Alfred, the gun in his hand. Bruce seemed very uncomfortable with it around, squirming and fidgeting, motioning with his hands in a pleading manner. Alfred put an arm around him though and he calmed a little.

When they turned around the bend of the house, Wally stopped in confusion. All he saw was a white wall and a few random bushes. For a moment, he glanced back at the two older men behind him, thinking that maybe he was going to be murdered here and now, but when they headed back towards the bushes, giving him a way to run if need be, that worry disappeared. As Alfred rummaged through the bushes, looking for whatever it was that he had seen, Bruce turned back to Wally. He casually strolled across the lawn, looking back and forth to make sure that no cops were around. When he was sure they were alone, he still dropped his voice to a whisper.

"Drop the act. I know you're Kid Flash. Now, you're going to help me find Robin," Bruce's eyes narrowed and he folded his arms over his chest, showing that he was dead serious.

Wally's eyes widened and he laughed in confusion.

"What?" he pretended to be oblivious.

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Come on, let's be practical. How many green eyed gingers are out there that would bawl their eyes out over Dick?"

Wally was silent, but only because he knew better than to make a wise crack at a man who had something to hold over him.

"… Okay… maybe I am… but I would've helped you with or without the spandex," he pointed out, running a hand over his hair weakly, "What could Kid Flash do that I can't?"

Bruce glanced around one last time, being as careful as he could to not be overheard by unwanted ears.

"You have the Justice League computers. I have just the house computers. Normally, I'd ask Batman for help," Bruce easily toyed with his alibi as if it really was a separate person because at times, it could be, "but I haven't heard from him in almost a week. I imagine he's trying to find Robin too but…"

Wally shakily nodded. "I… I'll try…"

"No," Bruce's eyes seethed with anger, "You either help me or you don't. Nowhere in there did I give you the option to try."

Wally felt his knees grow weak from fear. He fought himself in a battle to the death to reclaim his voice.

"I'll help," he said bravely, his arms trembling despite it.

Bruce nodded firmly, turning back to Alfred. The old man was hurrying across the lawn, a familiar green journal in hand. Bruce's eyes widened in recognition, but Wally stared on in confusion. They both hurried to meet him, but Wally forced himself to a normal pace as to not seem too eager. Bruce ran a bit faster, snatching the book rudely from his butler's hands. Alfred frowned heavily, but he made no protest. Wally jogged up, carefully watching as Bruce thumbed through the spidery handwritten pages. It wasn't until the last page in the book that he saw something that caught his attention.

On the last page in writing so untidy that even Wally scrunched up his nose in disapproval. It was 12 technical words, all so close together that it looked more like one long word. _Rule 61: Just because you saw someone die doesn't mean they did. _

Everyone blankly stared at it, looking for some explanation as to what it meant. That made no sense! Was this referring to ghosts? Doppelgangers? Clones? Criss Angels? Everyone knew that Dick was one of the most skeptical people on the planet, even doubting the concept of gravity, saying that everything on earth stayed because the winds and their own weight kept them from leaving. While watching ghost movies, he could always point out how it was faked. He was even worse than Wally on his beliefs. Then, Bruce seemed to get it.

"I… I think I know where he wanted us to head next," he started for one of the million cars in the driveway at a half-assed jog.

Alfred and Wally followed curiously.

"Where?" Alfred inquired, beating Wally to it.

Bruce said nothing though, not until he was buckled into the front seat of his 1981 Chrysler Imperial, the pale blue starting to rust from the rough year it had survived. Alfred headed in the direction of the house, possibly to ward off the cops. Wally just stood there awkwardly. Bruce's eyes narrowed at him.

"Wally, get your ass in this car or I _swear_, I will run you over until Dick has to attend two of his best friends' funerals!" Bruce thundered, murder threading through his voice.

Wally squeaked in fear, climbing into the car with the fastest flash he could manage. Before he could stop shaking enough to buckle his seatbelt, Bruce threw his foot against the accelerator and they propelled forward across the lawn.

"**That's what we do when we see evil. We run like Hell." She's taking me over; making me a mini Batman. Soon, there'll be no more of me left! It'll be just fanfiction, and nothing else… But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Review?**

**-F.J.**


	12. Chapter 12

**_You and Tequila make me crazy... run like poison in my blood… One more night could kill me baby… One is one too many… One more is never enough… never enough… _Sorry this is… late… way late… but… _FOLLOW ME, FOLLOW ME! FA LA LAA LA LAA~ _(: This is also dedicated to tydeerose. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. **

Dick couldn't swallow. A huge knot blocked his throat, preventing him from swallowing his sobs. He had a plan though. He knew how he was going to get out. This plan was insane, but being strapped to the same bad for nearly 10 days, bleeding, broken and bruised all over, sobbing and screaming from pure fear and agony didn't exactly keep you sane.

Sure, it was going to hurt more than anything he had ever experienced, but he had no choice. He wanted to go home. Not the circus trailer from before either. He wanted to be in Bruce's house. They could build a hospital there for him. He wasn't going to leave the comfort of his family to be fixed. He'd rather die in his new dad's arms or his best friend's arms rather than _her _arms.

When the door to his 'cell' opened, his pinky stretched under him, catching the nail file and pulling it into his palm, holding it tight. He turned his head to the side as he recognized her weakly walk into the room. She had her arms around her stomach, obviously already in pain. The ebony's heart ached as he could tell the baby was kicking.

"Dicky," she cooed, walking close.

He pulled the hand with the nail file closer to his side, making sure she couldn't see. If he followed through with this plan, he wouldn't be able to live with himself… but if he didn't do it, he wouldn't be able to live in general. There was a live baby, almost ready to be born, in her stomach! Was he really going to do this?

"I have a surprise for us! There's a nice house for sale not too far from here that's _so _beautiful… it's a three bedroom with three bathrooms… oh, the kitchen is so large! After your babysitter pays me off, you, me and Dustin," she glanced down at her stomach lovingly, "are going to start over again! You won't have to bother with getting your heart broken because I'll home school you… it'll be just like before…"

Tears burnt in Dick's eyes. This was his _mom_… and that was going to be his little sibling!

_No Grayson, she's not your mom. Quit telling yourself that…_ he thought to himself. _Your mom died a long time ago and she's buried… you visited her for four straight years… bringing her flowers and tears… _

He knew if he didn't move now, he never would. Biting his lip, he sat up and swung his arm through the air, driving the nail file deep into the woman's stomach. She howled in pain, staggering back in surprise.

"D-Dick? What are you-?" she started to ask, trembling in pain.

Dick didn't want to hear it. He leapt off the bed that had restrained him for so long, repeatedly driving the nail file into her body. Tears fell hard down his cheeks, but he didn't care. He couldn't stand by himself, he couldn't walk or crawl. All he could do was drive the file in and out of her stomach, screaming in a mix of rage and agony that he'd been holding back. The woman screamed in pure pain, tears falling from her eyes.

"Please, baby, stop! I-I'm your mother! You can't do this!" she was on the ground now, blood starting to pool around her. "I l- _agh!_ I love you baby! Please don't d-do _ah! _Don't do this!"

Dick kept right on stabbing, the tears evolving back into sobs. His body and mouth screamed in pain, unable to hold back anything. Five years of bottled up emotions slowly began to spill out.

"_You aren't my mom! My mom died five years ago! I don't know who the hell you are, but I hope you and 'Dustin' rot!_" he screamed at her, every letter dipped in pure murder. "_I want to go to my __**real **__home! You kidnapped me and I bet you've got all of the people I love worried to death! I HATE YOU! __I HATE YOU__! D-Die!"_

His stabs got more powerful, as did her pained screams. He was killing his mom… he was killing a woman who looked just like his mom… he was killing a _pregnant _woman who looked just like his mom. He was the worst kind of monster, but he didn't care. He just kept stabbing, even after her screams stopped. He had to make sure she wouldn't hurt him ever again. He had to make sure she wouldn't hurt _anyone _ever again.

XxXxX

Wally bowed his head in respect at the Graysons' joined graves. The gravel tombstones were old and weathered for being such new additions. Millions of wilted roses lined the headstones, probably above the millions of shed tears.

_Mary and John Grayson… I'm sorry for thinking this, but thanks for dying. If you hadn't, I probably never would've met Dick. I hope wherever you are is nicer than here… if there really is something up there, please help Dick! If anything happens to him… _the ginger bit his lip lightly. _I wouldn't be able to live with myself if my best friend died. He's my whole world and I love-… he's special to me… I can't lose him…_

"Wally, climb up that tree and tell me if you see anything out of the ordinary," Bruce demanded, looking up from behind the gravestones a few rows back, rudely yanking the ginger from his thoughts.

Wally's head snapped up in surprise, the words taking their sweet time to process. Then he turned his neck, looking for said tree. There were several, but the closest one to him was probably the one Mr. Wayne was referring to. It didn't look climbable.

"Are you sure?" he called lightly, blinking up at it questionably.

"I don't kid."

Wally groaned, walking up to the tree nervously. He knocked on the branch three times, as if hoping that'd give him luck before he started to back up slowly, staring hard until his feet bumped against a random gravestone. Then he ran forward as fast as he could, his feet striking the tree trunk forcefully. He got halfway up before he grabbed a limb in his hand and pulled himself up, straddling the branch weakly. He didn't know what to look for, so he just looked.

"Let's see… we've got some grass… and some tombstones… and dead roses… Lookie here, we got a wreath! Whoop! And uh… is that a candle? Wow, way to be original!" Wally frowned, leaning forward on the branch so he had a wider range of vision.

He was completely oblivious to the splintering sound under him. He was too busy looking for something un-cemetery-ish. Then he saw it.

"Over there! By the statue!" Wally pointed, his eyes on the huge angel, her stone wings unfurled around her in a half circle, her face frozen in a permanent smile.

Bruce looked over, confused. Before Wally could explain, he was sent hurtling towards the ground with the broken branch, both giving off a weak cry as they hit the grass. Bruce didn't offer any sympathy as he hurried to the statue the ginger had talked about. In a second, he saw the red stains that decorated her gray dress. It was a shape of a sort, but it was faded. He squinted hard.

"It looks like a house to me," Wally groaned from the ground, several feet away.

Bruce blinked in surprise, stepping back to better look at the image. He saw it. There was a square and that was probably a triangle on top for the roof. Why would Dick draw a house?

_Just because you saw someone die doesn't mean that they're dead… so we're at his parents' grave… and he drew a house on an angel… Angels are references to dead people… _Bruce got an idea, but he didn't like it.

"I think… I think one of his parents is alive… I don't know what he means by a house, but…" Bruce rubbed his neck, the gears in his mind turning quickly.

"Maybe he's saying he's at his old house?" Wally suggested, his face buried in the grass.

Oh sure, maybe he was injured, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like he was an important hero or anything in his free time… Bruce's eyes widened and his lips fell open.

"O-Oh m… Bruce dashed to the ginger's feet and gently helped him to his feet. "I guess you aren't so bad, West. I know where he could be. We don't have time to go get Batman though… if I parked close, could you go look for him while we wait?"

Wally's eyes widened and in an instant, he was gone. Bruce looked around for him, but decided it was best to assume he was already in the car. He took off running as fast as he could. He was going to save his baby! Well, technically Kid Flash would, but… That part didn't matter. Dick was going to be saved.

**Yay (: Progress. So yes, all of you were right. The psycho lady was Dick's mommy, but he killed her because he went insane with cabin fever and he wanted to go home and see everyone again. Don't question my techniques. Just thank me for updating and request other updations because I only have one left and I won't write a new fic until next year. Review? **

**-F.J. **


	13. Chapter 13

**To my dearest Oz, this is my fastest update. I want to get this story done, so eh, might as well. I had to eat dinner though, so sorry about that. And yes, Dustin would've been DAMN SEXY. So cue the dramatic "No!" He would've been an impossible baby though. The confusing flashback's on its way. Little Dicky has to be saved first though! **

Dick lay on his stomach, his face pressed in her blood. It stuck to his face, dripping from his eyelashes like tears as he groaned under his breath, trembling in agony.

"S-Someone," he whispered, weakly lifting his head from the blood.

The dark scarlet stained his bruised cheeks, dusted his eyebrows and made his lips glint in the darkness. He slowly and methodically moved his hands from his sides, inching them forward. Every molecule forward they moved caused unfathomable pain to run through his body, the throbbing replacing the heartbeat in his head. If he stopped now, he knew he was going to die.

"Help me…"

The only person in the room who could hear him was dead, her milky eyes painfully trained on him. Her gaze dragged more tears from his eyes.

_How do I still have tears left? _

He didn't have time to wonder though. If he stopped to wonder, he'd slow down and the pain of his stomach and everything else would catch up to him, crippling him until some savior of a sort came in to pull him towards the light, whatever that meant. The throbbing got more painful. Dick tried to stifle a scream of pain, but the throb stretched out to a flash of pain. He couldn't move. Now the tears were of pure fear. He knew he was going to die. He had no chance left.

_I… No… _

No words were proper to be his final. He just clasped his hands together and set his bloody face down on them, sobbing his heart out. The pain was too much bear. Now, instead of praying for a savior, he prayed for a bullet to the skull.

XxXxX

"Are we lost?" Wally asked, squirming uncomfortably in the front seat.

Bruce said nothing, sharply turning the corner so the ginger was roughly thrown against the door of the car. Wally let out a cry of pain, a hand flying to his face.

"Ouch!" he dramatically cried, his eyebrows narrowed.

"Should've had your seatbelt buckled," Bruce dismissed it casually, no emotion in his face.

Wally frowned heavily.

"It was! And on child lock!" he threw his hands up to show he was serious.

Bruce smirked to himself, keeping his eyes locked on the road.

"Not my fault. You should've been holding on."

Wally folded his arms over his chest, internally planning a way to off Dick's father-… wait, didn't Bruce say he wasn't Dick's dad? He said that Dick's dad 'wasn't with them anymore', but little Dicky-boy wasn't adopted? Alfred wasn't here to interrupt him and it was obvious that the driver was completely lost.

"So… if Dick isn't adopted… what is he?" Wally lightened his tone.

He didn't want to rub off on this man's bad side. If he and Dick got as close as he wanted them to be in the future, he definitely wanted to either be on the undecided or good side, preferably good.

Bruce was silent for the longest moment. "I don't appreciate you calling him a 'what'."

Wally blushed, embarrassed by the slip-up.

"I-I didn't mean it like that!" he blurted out quickly, his eyes wide.

A smile haunted the older ebony's lips.

"I know."

Wally sighed in relief. He definitely knew where Dick got the sadistic amusements from.

"But seriously, Mr. Wayne, who is Dick to you?" Wally carefully phrased himself.

When he saw Bruce start to turn the wheel, he grabbed onto the bottom of his seat for dear life. It was a good idea, keeping him rooted in place. Brown eyes glanced his way and an eyebrow rose, clearly impressed. An act that well deserved an answer of equal powers.

"Dick is my… he's my whole world…" a soft smile played over the man's lips before he remembered where his ward was, causing him to strike the steering wheel in frustration.

Wally nearly jumped out of his skin, his eyes wide. He looked so innocent and scared that Bruce actually whispered an apology, putting the car in reverse.

"I _am _lost. Dick is my 'ward'. I'm basically babysitting him, but I care for him like a son… which is why we have to find him soon."

Wally's smile faded in an instant and he got a crazy idea.

"If you tell me what I need to look for, I can go look while you try to get a hold of Batman?" he offered.

Bruce's eyes lit up and he slammed on the brakes, thankful they were on the back roads. Wally was jerked forward, the seatbelt slamming against his chest. He refrained from any bad driver jokes though.

"Look for a white movie star trailer, possibly rusted, with the words, 'Flying Graysons' spray painted on it in green and yellow paint. There'll probably be a picture of a little brunette with his arms held out at his side, a man and a woman behind him with their arms above their heads, all in green jumpsuits with grins on their face. If he's not there, find a circus tent," Bruce spoke fast.

Wally nodded, determination in his eyes. In a second, he was outside of the car, taking down the road in a blur. Bruce smiled to himself, opening the glove compartment and pressing the once-hidden red button. It gave off a sharp 'beep', confirming that it knew it had been pressed. He just hoped desperately that no cops were by the garage. He _really _didn't want to have to send some unsuspecting cops to GITMO.

XxXxX

Dick slowed his breath, the dizziness starting to feel really good. It blinded him from the pain temporarily, as if he had swallowed a whole Ibuprofen bottle 20 minutes ago and now people were jumping on his body. He was numb, but the pain was still there.

"_I'm not your boyfriend baby! I ain't your cute little sex toy!_" 3OH!3 cut through the numbness, making his eyes snap open.

What was that? Why was he hearing music?

"_I'm not your lion or your tiger!_" it continued, coming from his mom's body.

It was a ring tone. She had a phone. Regret ran through Dick, now knowing that he hadn't needed to kill her. He used the regret as cover for the pain, dragging his body back towards her side. He knew if he didn't answer the phone, whoever it was would be suspicious. He didn't take in the fact that he sounded nothing like her either.

"_Won't be your nasty little-_," Dick snatched the phone from her pocket and flipped it open, pressing it to his ear.

"Hello?" he was out of breath, his throat dry.

Convenient for him, that was all he needed to sound like her.

"Mary? Is everything alright?" Dick's heart stopped as he swore it was his father's voice that went through his mind.

"J-Just fine," he bit his lip and swallowed a whimper as the pain caught up to him. "Dick put up… quite the fight… he's calmed down though, don't worry."

There was hesitation on the line.

"Is the baby okay? Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"N-No!" he cried a bit too fast, keeping his voice high pitched. "I want to s-stay here with my older b-baby," he stumbled over the word. "I'd feel bad i-if I left him here w-without his mommy."

The man chuckled warmly. The gesture brought shivers down Dick's spine.

"You're too sweet Mary… that'll be the death of you, I swear it!" Dick bit his lip roughly, another tear falling down his cheek. "Love you babe."

"L-love… you too," Dick hung up, quickly going to dial a new number.

Who would he call? Wally? Bruce? 911? He dialed the first number that came to mind, hopefully pressing the phone to his ear. One ring became two, two became three… then the click sounded. He didn't give them a chance to talk.

"H-Help me!" he sobbed.

All of the pain came back at him, making him shatter. Screams erupted from his lips and he collapsed in the blood again, the phone close to his lips.

"Dick!" a relieved and horrified voice came over the line. "Oh my G- where are you? I'm coming! Please, just hang on a little longer!"

**Yay. Help on the way. Whoop. Review?**

**-F.J. **


	14. Chapter 14

**I just really want to finish this story. I _love _seeing an inbox full of reviews. If I was a Christmas tree, all of my lights would explode every time I see it. Which is why on Christmas Eve, I'm going to bomb all of your inboxes. For Christmas, I want love (: What better way to get it? Anyway, keep a tight hold onto something and wait your pretty little selves out. The explanation to it all is on its way. **

**Disclaimer: … Really? Do I really have to put this? NO! Screw you all. I _so_ own Young Justice. WHOA! Rebel! (; **

Wally bit his lip and forced himself faster than before. Before, he was a blur. Now, there was no blur to see. His molecules cut the air so fast, it didn't have time to part so it shielded him and let him run around in cover. Tears burnt in his eyes and he knew he was close to cracking.

"P-Please Rob! You have to tell me where you are!" he begged, his hand trembling madly as it fought to keep the phone to his ear.

"I… d-don't know!" a terrified sob sounded again, kicking up the ash of Wally's heart and breaking even that.

A tear fell, quickly blown off his face by the wind that viciously tore at his face. For all he cared, it could pull his face off with it. His only worry right now was the sobbing little ebony who was dying somewhere he couldn't find.

"Try to r-remember! I-I'm not losing y-you like this! Is there a-a window or something?"

The sobs grew more frantic, but he heard movement on the other line.

"T-There's s-s-so much b-blood," Dick whispered, whimpering in pain as he seemed to move somewhere else.

Wally shook, more tears falling. He had been afraid before, but never like this. He knew if something happened, he'd seriously have the nerve to go base-jumping without a parachute.

"D…Dick? You h… you have to hold on. Bruce and Batman are going to come help soon a-and we're going to f-fix you… e-everything's going to be okay…" he tried to sound promising, but his voice kept cracking.

A pained scream sounded and the phone hit the floor, followed by a string of cusswords. They sounded closer in his ears instead of from the phone, but he didn't focus on that.

"Dick!" he cried, stopping cold.

Tears fell fluently now, making their way casually down his face as his heart beat too fast in his chest. The silence was eating him away.

"I… I see a window! There's a- Ack! There's a-a man outside!" Dick's voice was feint, but the fear was loud and clear.

Wally's eyes widened and the useless organ in his chest stopped beating for the longest time, throbbing instead.

"I'm going to help you! J-Just, w-where are you?" his mouth moved a bit too fast for his words, but it's what he did when he was nervous.

"N-No time! Gotta p-protect myself!" the voice was even softer now.

Wally screwed up his eyes, swallowing a sob of his own and looking around at all of the trailers. There were so many… he ran forward and started to kick each door open, peeking his head inside.

"Dick- please listen to me just f-for a second. If I never see you a-again… I want you to know… I love you," Wally's heart was in his throat and he couldn't force it back down.

A heartbroken whimper sounded, getting louder. Dick must've grabbed the phone. A metallic click sounded, followed by a shaky gasp of pain.

"I l-love you too," there was a weak laugh.

Wally smiled softly, laughing just as gently in a hope that Dick would be okay. He looked up at the next trailer. The words were faded, but there certainly weren't any people on it. He went to kick in the door when a scream sounded from both inside the trailer and on the phone. His eyes lit up.

"I found you!" he dropped the phone and kicked the door in, a grin on his face.

The grin was gone before he could even see the inside of the trailer. _Someone _tackled him, throwing him down the steps and to the grass. There hair was a mess and they were soaked in the most scarlet of blood. Their dark blue eyes sparkled with insanity but a terrified animalistic cry meshed with the tears to show pure agony. A scream escaped Wally's lips as he felt a sharp jabbing pain in his arm. He was ready to kick the strange creature off and strangle it when he recognized it.

"Dick!" he called the creature by its name, right before he was stabbed again, causing him to scream again. "Stop stabbing me, damnit! I'm here to save you!"

The cry and insanity flickered, a metal object hitting the grass. Recognition flashed instead and a happy sob sounded as a huge grin came across Dick's face. He let himself fall flat on the redhead's chest, allowing relieved arms to hug him tightly.

"Y-You're alive!" Wally gasped for breath, practically squeezing the life out of his best friend.

Dick didn't care how bad it hurt. He was fine dying right here. He was the happiest he'd been in nearly 2 weeks.

"Wally… I-I want to go home," he sobbed, breathing in the familiar scents that laced themselves in Wally's clothes.

The smell of too much cologne was perfect to him. It caught his tears and rolled them off onto the grass so they wouldn't soak through the shirt. Wally shakily nodded, never lessening the hug. He sat up weakly, swinging one arm out so he was holding Dick bridal style. That let him hug the kid tighter to his chest, his sobs quiet.

Sure, he noticed the bloody body in the trailer, but he didn't care. He really didn't. As long as Dick was okay, there could've been naked body parts taped to the trailer's outside and he could've walked in to see his friend nom-noming on someone's stomach. That wouldn't have changed anything. Then he looked down, examining the bloody body in his arms.

He could see Dick's ribs through the bloody shirt and several stab wounds. The beautiful pale fingers all looked broken; both wrists were bent the wrong way; his fingertips were rubbed raw; his legs both looked broken which brought up the mental questioning of the tackle; his precious lips were split, blood spilling from the sides; the gorgeous eyes that Wally loved were swollen; the porcelain skin was covered in dark bruises…

"I'm the one bleeding by the gallon here," Dick said softly, his voice full of tease, "Why are _you _the one crying?"

Wally didn't smile. His frown faltered, a shaky gasp for breath breaking it.

"I thought you were dead! I thought some heartless bastard had stolen you from me… I thought I lost you! I-I…" he leaned down and pressed his lips to the side of Dick's smile. "I'm not going to lose you again. I'm going to catch up with Bruce and we're going to save you!"

Dick's eyes were as wide as they could manage, his cracked lips parted in surprise. Although it was impossible to see past the tear stains and bruises, a blush was clearly there. A messy black head of hair leaned itself against the flannel shirt, concentrating the rapid heartbeat instead of the painful throb.

"Please hurry," he whispered, smiling shyly.

Wally nodded determinately, making a mental note to not bring up the dead body with Bruce or Batman or any of the police officers. They could notice that on their own. He was going to save his angel before the metaphorical wings became real and robbed him of his reason to live.

**Dick's lips are split, that hurts awful. You can't get kissies with those. And yes, the explanation is coming up. If I told it now, Dick could've died in Wally's arms, which some of you sick people would've been just fine with. (I'm one of you, don't worry, but I can't kill off a character again). This is almost over- unless I decide to play with John Grayson (: It depends if people like this… So, review?**

**-F.J. **


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm… I'm probably going to end this soon unless you people aren't satisfied with my explanation in which case… I might have to drag it on a bit more or end it with a cliffy and kill you all (: Sorry this is late, but my old neighbors came over to visit. I guess it was nice at first, but I'm glad they're gone. I already have one fic written, ready to post… Prepare to have a bunch of notifications on Christmas Eve. If this is sad… it's because_ I'm_ sad…. very… sad… **

**Disclaimer: … why bother with these… I'll never own anything… **

Bruce had never done more than set a comforting hand to his ward's shoulder in congratulations. He had thought everything else to be too soon and he didn't want to scare his little boy more than he probably already was. When he saw his baby in the ginger's arms, all of that sanity inside him snapped. The inner paternal instinct that he usually suppressed came shooting straight to the top of his mind in its jetpack.

He rushed forward, ripping the little ebony from the fifteen year old's arms and hugged him tight. All of the tears that before had been hidden now came back, slamming into him harder than any semi could ever dream. He said not a word and gasped not a single breath. Instead, he hurried and got into the front seat, still hugging his little boy to his chest. Wally was in the passenger seat in a second.

"If I hold him, you could drive better-," Wally began to say, but from the seriousness of the tears, he shut himself up, buckling his seatbelt.

That was probably his best idea of the day. The second Bruce touched his foot to the accelerator, he was thrown roughly against the belt. Somehow, Bruce didn't twitch without a seatbelt. He _had _to have powers of a sort. There was no way that was possible.

"B-Bruce… we can't j-just leave… they'll… come looking… f-for me again…" Dick mumbled, obviously fighting to hide his pain.

His hands were in tight fists which obviously stung, but it had to feel better than anything else. Bruce kept his eyes on the road, driving with the hand he wasn't holding Dick with.

"I'll think of something. I won't let them take you again," he said firmly, glancing over at the ginger to see why the kid had been silent for five minutes.

The worried emerald eyes were looking down at his left arm. A deep puncture wound was there, bleeding heavily under pale fingers.

"What happened," Bruce demanded to know, purposely not phrasing it as a question to sound more professional and careless.

Dick's eyes weakly looked at Wally, regret and fear mixing in with the swollen blue. Wally wouldn't rat out his best friend. He quickly lowered his sleeve, wiping his fingers off on the inside of his jeans.

"I was running up the steps to a trailer and slipped. It's nothing."

Bruce didn't buy it for a second, but he didn't want to argue. Wally had the right to keep a few secrets of his own. Instead of voicing his mind, his foot pressed harder on the accelerator.

XxXxX

Dick winced as they set him down on a rolling bed.

"Bruce, they're going to come back for me! When they find out I'm gone-..." Dick whimpered in pain as he saw the breathing mask.

Bruce set a hand on his free one, forcing himself to smile past the tears.

"I'm going to protect you. I have a plan. You want to help?"

Dick raised an eyebrow, struggling to keep his eyes open as the gas was flowed through the mask.

"All you have to do is be alive when I come back. Can you do that?" Bruce was honestly asking, his heart aching at the sight of all of the tubes and wires that he assumed would be violating the small body in front of him.

Dick glared at him behind a smile.

"I'm… n-not a kid anymore… Please don't pretend I… am… I'll be waiting for… you," the gas was kicking in fast.

Bruce nodded, reluctantly moving over as Wally ran up. He looked like he had so much to say, but he couldn't say any of it in front of Bruce. He didn't have that much courage left. He'd used it all to keep from hardcore sobbing and kissing Dick when he had rescued him. Instead, he just bit his lip and looked Dick in the eyes, forcing a weak smile. Dick grinned, slipping his hand out from under Bruce's. He reached up weakly, touching his index and middle fingers to the side of the ginger's face. The touch was so gentle and loving that Wally had to be reminded how to breathe.

"I'm glad I'm not you," Dick said slowly, his hand falling until it set itself over the ginger's. "Good luck… showing the… body… to Bruce…"

The slightest of his trademark giggle sounded before blue hid itself from the world and Dick was out. The doctor quickly wheeled him away, his hand torn away from Wally's unwillingly. Bruce turned his eyes to the ginger, an eyebrow raised, but only after he had scrubbed his face free of the tears.

"_The body_?" he repeated, folding his arms over his chest.

Wally sighed, slumping his shoulders.

"Yeah… um… about that… maybe it's best if you don't send the police to investigate where Dick was being held…"

XxXxX

Even after death, couples could stay together by being buried together. Just because you've been buried doesn't mean that you're safe for eternity. No, that'd be way too easy. There was always _someone _who had to go and ruin it all.

Today had seemed perfect in the cemetery, for once. The grass couldn't have been greener; the trees couldn't have been stronger, except for that odd one with the boot print and the broken branch; the graves were surprisingly clean for gravel; the dirt looked fresh and new; the flowers were bright and happy for such a morbid cause. But then _he _had come to ruin it.

Technically, it wasn't a he, nor was it a she or a they. It was an it and its metal boots thoughtlessly snapped anything in its way with just a single step. Its eyes were the sharpest of reds, beeping in a special rhythm to show it was active. Its metals were shiniest on its chest, behind which DNA was being stored for its master.

"_I need you to reacquire the female Grayson DNA. It seems her model has been deactivated_," the master's orders flew through his systems, the commands registering in a half second.

It marched directly over her grave, holding a hand out. Its palm opened, a long drill coming out and cutting down through the earth, the coffin and the rotted flesh underneath. Before anyone would be able to question it, the drill was back in his palm, a small section of skin resting on the closed metal. It grabbed the skin and held it in front of his stomach which opened quickly. Then it disposed of the skin in a vile of a sort, the metal sealing itself up with a hiss.

"**The DNA has been acquired. Returning to base**," it said robotically, turning its eyes to the sky as flaming feet sent him flying high up into the clouds and back out of sight.

XxXxX

Wally stopped in front of the trailer, looking inside, clearly confused. The blood was all there, as well as the mattress and nail file, but the woman's body was nowhere to be seen.

"I-I swear, there was a… there was a lady here! She had brown hair… and she was really fat… um…" Wally stepped back outside, looking up at the roof of the trailer.

Bruce frowned in confusion, looking at the blood. Something was off about it.

"Are you sure?" he asked slowly, reaching down and poking the thick liquid.

Wally unconsciously rubbed his arm, knowing that the necessary proof was right there under his shirt.

"Yes, I'm sure. Her stomach was all cut up, like maybe someone got hungry and took a lot of curious bites out of her. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and her face was really thin… it was just her stomach that was fat."

Bruce got up from the trailer's steps and went inside, out of the ginger's sight.

"Did you ever consider that maybe she was pregnant?"

Wally went silent, awkwardly rubbing his neck. Dick wouldn't have killed a pregnant woman. No! He was a good kid. She _had_ to have just been awkwardly proportioned.

"She couldn't have been. Besides, there are a lot of girls who are thin everywhere but their stomachs. I hate it. I mean, what's sexy about thin girls? It's like dating a stick figure with hair! Nothing about that is-," he cut himself off when he realized who he was talking to. "S-Sorry sir."

He was surprised to hear a soft chuckle come from behind the white walls. Wally grinned to himself, silently cheering. He knew he wasn't on the man's good side, but a laugh had to guarantee that they weren't enemies. That would probably change soon, but his mind wasn't on the future. He was a hero after all. He could only live for today because nothing guaranteed him a tomorrow.

**Dick's getting help and I've hinted at who really kidnapped him. It was a robot that was getting the DNA. He was at the Graysons' graves, in case you didn't get that either. Should I just wrap it up really quick or do you want some more suspenseful chapters that involve Batman kicking some serious ass and possibly an identity scare? Review! **

**-F.J. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry this is late, but I had a strange plan to be happy on Christmas. I have a lot to type before tomorrow night (tonight for you guys reading this) so I can't really work on memorable A/Ns. Sorry if this sucks, but I really don't care. I don't have time to care. Merry Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanza, Boxing Day and December. (SEE! I show love for the Atheists). **

**Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. **

Dr. Hank Emerson wasn't new at this. Day after day, new patients were wheeled into his room, bleeding and broken. He'd seen everything from spouse abuse to kids who ignored the warnings on TV and did what they saw. Several patients had died on him, but when the little black-haired beauty was wheeled into his room, he knew this one wouldn't. This kid was a wreck, everything out of place.

"What happened to him, John?" Hank asked his assistant.

Hank was an older man, maybe 54 or so. He was weathered with age, a serious look usually set over his features. John on the other hand was in his early thirties, his brown hair and green eyes making him popular with the ladies. John hopelessly shrugged, dismissing the nurse and pulling the ebony further into the room.

"It's not my job to ask sir," John said calmly, scooping the scissors off of the table beside him.

He quickly went to work, cutting the bloody shirt from the pale chest. Dried blood acted like glue, doing its best to prevent him. John didn't panic though. He just tugged a little harder, knowing he couldn't do anything worse than what had already been done. Hank frowned, nodding and stepping forward to examine the pale chest. It was a mess, but to see everything, he'd have to clean the wounds.

He walked with a fast pace to the sink, grabbing some sterile wipes and dashing back to the bloody boy's side. He dabbed at every blood splotch, working as fast as he could to clean up. There seemed to be an endless amount of leaking though and he almost gave up on trying to clean. John took the wipes from his hands and took over. Hank nodded thankfully, picking up a delicate arm and looking it over.

He noted aloud everything that was wrong, more for his own memory than anything else. There were a ton of breakages, bruises and cuts and he bet there were a ton of torn ligaments and muscles on the inside that'd need a good portion of time to heal. He didn't have time to take notes anymore. He had to set the bones back.

XxXxX

Bruce calmly drove the car in silence, his mind elsewhere. Something had been bothering Wally for the longest time and he knew that now was the best time to ask it. The worst that could happen would be that he'd get kicked out of the car. He could run to the hospital or back home, all depending on what he felt like.

"Hey… can I ask you something?" he said slowly, holding tight to the door handle just in case.

Bruce hummed to show he heard and was listening, no matter how distant. He half expected the redhead to ask if he could be with his ward, seeking approval, but he knew that Wally wouldn't dare with that. He was half interested, but the biggest portion of his interest was there with his little boy in the hospital.

"So… the second I walked in, you recognized me because you told the cops not to shoot me. You knew I was Kid Flash because there weren't a lot of gingers who cared about Dick. How'd you know that Kid Flash and Dick knew each other?"

Bruce's eyes widened for a second and he offered a small smile, obviously impressed by this kid's thinking.

"If you haven't noticed, Dick likes to talk. At our house, Alfred and I are the only people he can talk to. I know a lot about his life," Bruce stretched the truth a little.

The last part was the only lie. There was no need to blow his cover. Wally was clever though.

"That's the thing sir. Kid Flash doesn't know Dick. Kid Flash is sucked up in sidekick stuff, unlike Dick…" the ginger went on, perfectly ready to run.

Bruce was ready for this talk though. He had rehearsed something similar to it in his head hundreds of times ever since Dick had donned the domino mask and joined him on the battlefield.

"You and I both know Dick is Robin. That's not too much of a secret. If he keeps up that stupid giggle of his, the whole world's going to find out pretty soon," Bruce shrugged.

"I don't think it's stupid…" Wally mumbled under his breath at first.

Bruce's smile strengthened, but he quickly drained it and focused harder on the roads.

"He doesn't giggle _that _much. Besides, how would you know that Kid Flash cares for Robin? If you know as much about Dick as you say you do, then you know he doesn't talk about… that kind of stuff… openly. And he's always uncertain about friends. He wouldn't rant on about stuff his friend does. You'd have to notice it yourself, but I've never seen you around the Cave…"

Wally was quick to add, "Please don't kill me," when he saw the offended look that crossed the eldest's face. Bruce smiled lightly.

"Trust me, I won't kill you," Bruce assured him, "If I did, Dick would hate me and probably run away or something."

Wally's heart stopped. Great. The only thing keeping him alive was a fear of losing his kid. That made him feel better.

"Should I just drop the subject?" he asked lightly, lessening his hold on the handle.

Bruce said nothing so Wally took that as a yes. He bowed his head lightly, staring at his knees. They were stained from blood, probably from when Dick tackled him. Dick… he was in the hospital, his bones being fixed, tubes and wires piercing his skin… Wally shivered, gritting his teeth and balling his hands onto his fists as they rested right below the blood stains. He unconsciously wiped at his eyes even no tears were quite ready to fall.

"You're a smart kid. You probably won't hear that a lot, but you need to know it. If anybody had to protect Dick on the field while I cannot, I'm glad it's you. He probably won't be on the battlefield again for a long time… but I trust you'll watch over him and protect him even then," Bruce spoke strongly for a voice so crippled with pain.

Wally's eyes widened and he winced in surprise, looking over at his best friend's dad. Inside, he cheered happily. He was finally on the good side.

"Thank you," he never lifted his eyes from his fists. "I fully intended to."

XxXxX

Alfred raised an eyebrow as the doorbell rang. He dismissed the cops with a wave of his hand, walking to the door and opening it. A man stood there, his face grim. He was painstakingly familiar, but Alfred couldn't place him.

"May I help you?" Alfred folded his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow.

The man in the doorway was bulky, not fat, with broad shoulders. His brown hair was thinning up top, little specks of gray dotting here and there. His eyes were dark blue and he was extremely muscular all over. When he realized he was being spoken to, he set a hand to his neck, obviously upset.

"Is this… Is there a Dick Grayson living here?" he asked hopefully.

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before he finally placed the man. He forced a weak frown.

"I'm sorry? Who's that?"

Years of playing faithful butler to Batman and Robin had taught him how to keep secrets without being figured out. He was the best and oldest actor in the Wane Manor and he intended to take that title to his grave. The man weakly smiled, his eyes teary.

"He… he's my son. Five years ago, my wife and I got involved with the mob and we had to… 'drop off the map' for a while… and we understand he was adopted. The orphanage said he'd be here," the man peered over Alfred's shoulder, as if looking for his boy.

Alfred pretended to be confused, thinking hard.

"Oh, you mean the blue eyed boy? He works here on weekends sometimes, keeping Bruce and I company. He helps with the cleaning because, as you can tell, time isn't faring well for me and my son is always out working. You must have the wrong Wayne family. There's another one not to far from here in upstate Brooklyn," Alfred managed to say it all, seeming as impatient as ever. "Now if that's all, I have a dinner to attend in my son's honor and he's waiting for me."

The man seemed startled, but he nodded anyway.

"O-Oh… um, thank you sir. Have a nice day."

And with that, Alfred shut the door in the face of John Grayson.

**WOAH! Plot thickened! And Alfred just got that much more awesome. I was going to make up a gay couple line, but I decided son and father was more believable and not everything has to be gay to make me happy… it helps though. I don't know when I'll next update, but expect it soon because I obviously have no life. Review?**

**-F.J. **


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